New Rule For Ferelden
by Oblivion-and-wonderland
Summary: Tess Cousland builds Alistair up as the King Ferelden needs, while he breaks down her self-harming past and molds her into the Hero of Ferelden. Trigger Warnings: PTSD; Angst, Depression; Addiction; NSFW. ***NOTE*** I will no longer be updating here. For the full story: /works/4997605?view full work true
1. Into The Korcari Wilds

Alistair turned to the woman who'd witnessed his attempt to irritate the senior mage. His immediate impression was her disinterest in him, refusing even to look his way. Apathy wasn't new to Alistair, but her expression was certainly new for a first encounter. She'd strike him as Tranquil if not for her clenching brow, resentful maybe. _Probably another messenger,_ though she wasn't dressed like a Chantry Sister or the King's men.

"Nothing like a Blight to bring us all together, eh?" he joked.

"Indeed. I'm wondering if 'Blight' is merely code for Secret Gentleman's Club Where Men Can Wear Dresses and Frolic in the Woods Without Lovers Questioning Their Sexuality." she kept a solemn face.

Alistair couldn't help a grin. He'd sworn only _he_ made jokes this bad. "No, 'Blight' is the extremely secret password to get in the compound. _'Grey Wardens'_ is the code for the Gentleman's Club."

 _Grey Wardens,_ the organization of skilled warriors from all walks of life, destined for responsibility of ending world-threatening Blights, payment for surviving the poison which made Blights so deadly. The Taint connected Grey Wardens to the creatures born of the Blight itself, gruesome ghouls called Darkspawn, soulless feral monsters. Alistair had been a Grey Warden for half a year now. The fact this woman before him made such bad jokes about it all suggested she was a new and nervous recruit.

"You people are too loose with your words, then. Everybody is talking about the Blight."

"Wow!" he laughed. When she still didn't crack a smile, he dropped his with an awkward clearing of his throat. "You must be the new recruit?" he guessed.

"I must be?"

"Or… you don't have to be. But if you are and you don't want to be, I'm afraid you're in for trouble."

"My parents contemplated naming me 'Trouble.'" An unmistakable clench of her jaw and twitch of her eye before she pretended to admire a nearby column.

"Oh?" he mused with a smirk. "And why didn't they?"

"Too hard to marry off a daughter like Trouble. Can you imagine the wedding invitations? _And the people responsible for Trouble are._.."

"Right." he smiled. "I can see how that might be tough with the nobles. So, what did they name you?"

"Tesslyn."

"… what? Tesslyn what?" he pressed, determined to get more than sarcasm from her.

"Cousland."

"Cousland? You're a Cousland?" From what Alistair knew, the Couslands were second in power and rank only to King Cailan.

"Perhaps the last." her brow narrowed the distance to her eyes.

"The last? What do you mean?" he asked.

"Nothing. Nevermind. Can we move on?" she frowned deeper.

"Yes, we can." Alistair stepped in line beside her as she hurried down the walk. "So… have you met the other recruits?"

"Yes. I do not approve."

"I'll keep that in mind. You know, you don't see too many Grey Warden women. Why do you suppose that is?"

"Because the women are too smart to let themselves be seen," she said.

"Perhaps." he smirked at his own tease: "But then what does that make you?"

"Obviously one of the boys." she answered, bitter and impersonal, despite her aptitude for humor.

"Obviously," he said, testing how long she would let him flirt. He was disappointed her initial play hadn't carried on.

She shot a disapproving side-glance at him and firmly shut her mouth. The frown was the most constant thing about her so far.

"Do you really not like it here?" he wondered out loud.

"I damn well didn't _ask_ to be here."

"You are so much fun!" he didn't bother to hide his sarcasm.

She didn't speak again. In fact, as Duncan gave the instructions to gather vials of Darskpawn blood from the Korcari Wilds, the Cousland Lady was sullen. No, sullen wasn't strong enough. _Melancholic_. She refused to speak or make eye contact when the other recruits inquired of the dangers in the Wilds. She didn't even look at Duncan until Alistair led Ser Jory and Daveth - the other recruits - away.

"Are you all right, Tesslyn? If you're not ready, we can do yours in the morning," Duncan told her. Alistair stopped to wait, curious, and nosy.

The Cousland Lady turned her head and raised her eyes to Duncan. "I'm well enough to fight. Smiling is not required to do so."

"This is true." Duncan hesitated. "Then may the Maker ease your troubles, my Lady."

She frowned again; this seemed to be a hobby of hers. "There is no remedy for this, Duncan." She walked past Alistair without acknowledging he waited for her.

Jory and Daveth bet how many Darkspawn they would each kill before they even left the compound. Jory mostly contemplated the challenges and concerns awaiting them. When neither quieted after the heavy wooden gates shut behind them, Lady Cousland shot the boys a glance of irritation and quickened her pace. It was apparent she wanted nothing to do with them.

"Come on," Alistair told the lads. "Best not keep the Lady waiting," he joked. All this seriousness was boring, but he understood the need for quiet when they were supposed to search for the enemy. Better to find than be found.

As if on cue, the sound of metal unsheathing from leather rang to their ears, as did the barking of wolves. The three of them sprinted around the cluster of trees blocking their view. Alistair honestly wasn't sure if he should join the Lady: her arms flung all about in a whirlwind, daggers mad and unprejudiced. Could he even get in there without being sliced like supper?

He also realized he didn't have a choice; she was his charge. Duncan had specifically told him to watch over his charges. He readied his sword and shield and charged, only to arrive in time to find her foot steadying a wolf's head so she could yank out a stuck dagger. And… that was it. There was nothing left for him to do.

She stood splattered with blood, dirty gray and black wolves littered around her, flooding green with shining red beneath them. She caught her breath as she watched the three men. Green eyes crossed to spy the blood on her hands when she reached up to push her hair off of her face; blood was apparently nothing new to her. Lady Cousland ran thumb over her nose and smeared a red line from cheek to cheek, staring at Jory and Daveth as if calling for reaction..

She pointed to the wolves with her dagger. "This is why you don't keep the Lady waiting." She turned and stepped over the lifeless canines. "Bloody nug-humping daffodils can't keep your bleedin' traps shut long enough to actually stick something! Sodding pair of bloomin' little girls!" She sounded off.

Alistair felt his brows jump near to his hairline. He was amused and interested by this side of the brooding noble woman. Extremely interested.

"Not much of a Lady if she talks like a pirate," Jory remarked.

"Not much of a Grey Warden if you left your balls in your tent!" she retorted without pause. Alistair tried to contain a laugh; Daveth didn't bother hiding it.

"It seems best to follow the Pirate Lady," Alistair said to the men. Daveth agreed with a giggle.

The Cousland Lady suddenly ran and dropped to her knees. Alistair had seen enough of these acts to know something was wrong. He ran after her and slid on his own knees. She was sitting over a badly wounded man wearing Denerim armor.

"I've got bandages," Alistair offered, opening his medic pouch.

"Don't touch him!" Lady Cousland ordered darkly.

Alistair looked from her face to her busy hands. She was dumping out most of a vial of blue lyrium potion; it sizzled the grass as it splashed down, leaving an effect of frost crystals.

"What are you doing?" he asked her. "Lyrium won't help him. He's not a mage."

"I could actually perform this miracle if you would shut up and stay out of my light," she snapped.

"All right, fine. You can tell King Cailan how he died, then!" Alistair shot back, standing as Jory and Daveth joined them.

"Shut. Up." she reinforced her demand from earlier.

Lady Cousland stuck what looked like a dried-up deep mushroom in her mouth and chewed it for a moment, only to pull out a wet, slimy glob. She shoved the slimy mushroom in the vial of lyrium and immediately capped it; it fizzed ferociously, reminding Alistair of a rabid dog foaming at the mouth. She gave the bottle a few rough shakes before letting it settle between her knees. And apparently it was a good idea to waste half of a bold-red healing poultice.

"Doesn't he need the red stuff?" Daveth peered over.

"What's she doing?" Jory asked.

"Trying not to kill you both," she answered before Alistair could.

"Yes. That." Alistair said flatly.

Lady Cousland switched the bottles between her knees and collected blood from the wounded man – from the wound itself – in the fizzing lyrium/mushroom concoction. She capped it with her thumb again and gave it another good shake, then transferred it to the bottle with the remaining health poultice.

She held the small bottle out toward Alistair. "Hold this," she ordered. She whipped her head up at him with a stern frown. "Do NOT break it!"

"All right…" Alistair returned to his knees and held the small bottle by the neck. She dug in her pouch once more and retrieved a small bottle of clear amber liquid. Alistair looked at her curiously. "Is that rum?"

"No, you may not have some."

"I – no." he couldn't help his giggle. "I wasn't going to ask. I was just curious why you have such a small bottle."

"So I don't have to share." she seemed to have an answer for everything. Pulling the cork out with her teeth she filled the rest of the strange health poultice-bottle up with the dark rum; she swallowed the rest of the alcohol. Her dagger tore through the soldier's undershirt; the skin had been gouged like the blade had dug in and twisted.

"You are lucky," she told the soldier gently, so out of character it made Alistair think someone new had spoken. "It didn't get past your hide." this was a tone of voice Alistair hadn't heard from her yet. She took the tiny bottle from Alistair. "Hold his arms down." Alistair did as he was told and Lady Cousland let only a singly drop fall to the wound. The soldier yelled through his teeth. She looked at the man in sympathy, steadying his body at the hip. "You're one of Cailan's men, yes? Have you ever met the Queen?" she asked.

"N-not personally. But I saw her around the castle a few times during my training." the soldier breathed deeply.

"And what did you think of her?"

"She's – lovely, for sure. The King seems to think she's a fine lady."

"Hm." she smirked. "I think she's about as pompous as a nug-wrangler's backside." Alistair snorted into laughter.

"W-what?" The soldier asked in confusion.

"I grew up around her. She doesn't even care to dry her own hands. Did you know I once soaked her slippers in fish water and let them out to dry? She had no idea where the stench was coming from – she actually feared it was her _private_ parts, _if_ you know what I mean. And you should have seen all the cats! They followed her around all day!" she spun her tale quite animatedly.

This had Alistair laughing so hard he couldn't hold his head up. While the wounded soldier was occupied with his own laughter, Lady Cousland applied the solution from the vial. The soldier clenched between breathless giggles. Humor was winning, it seemed. Alistair felt he was seeing a whole new side to this moody noble pirate-mouthed woman.

"There you go." she stood and helped the soldier to his feet. He pulled apart the hole in his leather armor and undershirt. The wound looked more like a fresh burn scar now.

"How in the name of Andraste did you do that?" Alistair marveled.

"You were right there. You saw everything." annoyed once again, but only at Alistair. "You should get back to camp," she gestured; a gentleness reserved for only the soldier. "If you stay, you'll only be hacked down again. These clod-heads won't shut up."

"We are not like that!" Jory defended.

"Tell that to the wolves I had to kill back there." She pointed at the soldier, "You, go get some rest. You two -" she pointed at Jory and Daveth, _"shut up."_ She marched off. The soldier winced out a _thank you_ to Alistair and limped away.

"Look at all these bodies." Jory looked around at the dead soldiers on the ground.

"She's sort of right, you know," Alistair said. "We should try not to draw attention to ourselves, especially with the Darkspawn as our enemy."

"What's the point? If a whole platoon of the King's best couldn't survive out here…" Jory worried.

"That's why _I'm_ here. Grey Wardens can _sense_ the Darkspawn. There's no way they can ambush us, I promise. We're nowhere near their base. Any we meet out here will only be scouts. Still," he added, "we shouldn't try to draw attention. It's not smart against any enemy."

So they pressed on, despite Jory growing more skeptical with each step. Lady Cousland was nowhere to be seen nor were any Darkspawn so far, but they came upon a fallen tree made into a bridge between two small hills. From the tree bridge swayed three dead soldiers, hung by rusty-looking ropes.

"Poor sods. That is what happens when people go into Darkspawn territory without a Grey Warden," Alistair said.

"That could be us," Jory said.

"The only way that will be you is if you don't shut your whining pie-hole." The three of them looked up to see Lady Cousland at the root of the tipped-over tree. She pointed across the tree-bridge. "They're not far, actually. So close I can smell them. Other side of this clever little bridge." she gave the roots a small kick. She waved at something Alistair couldn't see. "Oy, there!" she called cheerfully. "Your grunted breathing must have made it a tad hard to hear the sniveling, but the idiots are right down here!" she pointed down to Alistair and the other two recruits. "Good day to you!" she bowed to something across the tree-bridge then leapt away in the opposite direction. An arrow flew right where she had been waving from. As she disappeared once more, Alistair, and the recruits drew their weapons and ran around the edge of the marsh pond. They halted before the clearing where the Darkspawn tarried, for a cloud of black fog exploded with the sound of shattering glass. The Darkspawn were completely shrouded. A harmonious chime of slicing metal could be heard; sharp metal – not Darkspawn blades, rough and corroded. Heavy thuds echoed around the fog like bodies falling. A feminine cry of annoyance rang out.

"What?! Is that her?" Daveth cried angrily, as if Lady Cousland had stolen his glory right out from under him.

As the fog evaporated, Lady Cousland materialized, ducking to flip a stalky genlock archer. She embraced it from behind, gripping its left arm; with the bow arm occupied, she sneaked a dagger around. A reflection of sunlight before she stabbed it in the gut. The blade twisted and carved a trail up to the chin, armor and skin no longer restraining Tainted innards. The genlock slid down her front as stray wisps of black fog settled to the ground.

Lady Cousland simply looked at Alistair, Jory and Daveth. They stood speechless before her; she glanced like she wasn't sure why they stared. She gave a slight bow of her head and said, "How do?" then she turned and trotted off as if she hadn't slaughtered a handful of Darkspawn like someone with years of practice in sadistic execution.

"Do you think she's married?" Daveth asked.

"That is _not_ why we're here," Alistair said. "Besides, _I_ saw her _first_."

 _"I_ did, actually."

"Well, she likes me better," Alistair retorted immaturely.

"The whole lot of you are idiots." she was suddenly walking back to them. She approached Alistair directly and shoved two stuffed-to-the-brim belt sacks at his chest. "I'm packed up. Do _not_ lose these." She turned to leave as swiftly as she had approached.

"You want me to carry your _purses_?" Alistair stood confused.

"Quite accurate!" she called back. "You are wasting daylight!"

"It's one of my many talents!" he answered, stringing the fist-sized purses onto his belt. "Wait! Wait, wait, wait!" he ran up to her.

"I'm not interested in talking," she stated.

"So I've concluded. Where did you learn to fight like that?" he ignored her decline.

"I'm not telling you."

"Why not? You're quite impressive!" he told her.

"Thank you for noticing, but I'm still not interested in speaking."

"Speaking lets enemies know we're here, right," he joked about her desire for silence, intentionally trying to be a pest. "But we'll kill them anyway," he pointed out.

"Yes, but while you're busy talking, they might sneak up on us, in which case the opportunity to catch an enemy off-guard means there's no way of preparing for attack, thus no way of defense. Do _you_ want to be the person who instantly dies by a surprise attack? No chance to defend yourself? _Darkspawn_ , of all things?"

"I… point taken. But they aren't exactly the silent type. They're more the _grunting_ types," he informed her.

"Same could be said of you." she shot him a glare. " _Do_ shut up. I am in no mood to be your friend. I am here to kill the deformities lurking here because I am good at killing. If you and those _little tulips_ continue to hinder me, I will _conveniently_ forget whose side I'm supposed to be on!" she stared at him with a passion burning behind emerald eyes. She looked lamenting, though, not evil, not heartless. Too much pain in the crease of her face.

"I'm not your enemy," he reminded gently. "The others are a little nervous. It's normal. Considering this is just part of a test, couldn't we be lenient and let them talk out their fears?" he bargained kindly. "I promise you we won't be caught off-guard, no matter how much noise we make." They stood in silence for a moment, neither breaking eye-contact. Something was off but he couldn't place what; loss was evident, but what was so bad inside to make her this violent? "If you'd rather go back to camp, that's fine. Duncan offered to postpone your toJoining tomorrow," he offered.

"And do what? Wallow there? No." she turned and set off again. "As long as the lot of you keep your distance I won't try to kill you. Very often," she added.

"You are too much fun!" he joked after her.

"Lick my bootprints!" she countered.

"Maybe when we're out of Darkspawn mud," he bargained.

Alistair walked with Jory and Daveth a few paces behind Lady Cousland as she requested, until she disappeared behind a broken mossy arch of stone columns. Just past the arch they spied a Darskpawn camp; crude fences, rigid torches serving as lampposts, a few human heads on pikes. "Where are all the Darkspawn?" Alistair muttered to himself.

"Should I slither over and take a gander?" Daveth offered.

Alistair tried to peer out further, however to update from where he stood. "Yes…"

Daveth darted from shadow to shadow, moving silently, creeping beneath trees, keeping hidden in reeds. So far no movement from the Darkspawn. Was Daveth really so invisible, or were the Darkspawn all sleeping?

Daveth suddenly made himself seen. "They're dead! All of them!" he called over. Jory and Alistair exchanged a curious glance and joined Daveth. "Throats slit clean," Daveth reported. He huffed. " _So_ , the Noble Lady is an assassin. And she got after me for being a _thief!"_

The Darkspawn indeed all had their throats slit. There was no blood other than immediately around where the bodies lie, all strewn about, each with a delicate trickle of blood from an almost invisible slice across the neck. She must have moved in the skill of stealth as well, to take the darkspawn where they stood with no warning.

"It does appear she has assassin skills," Alistair agreed. "So where might an assassin go?" He looked around.

"To find a killer, just follow the dead bodies!" Daveth said cheerfully.

"That makes perfect sense." Alistair glanced around, seeking a trail. "Except it looks like they were slain where they stood…"

"Then we scout. Assassins are often fond of poisons, so we look for fresh-picked deathroot stems."

"Also useful, _but_ , and I hate to undermine your expertise again - she gave me her purses to hold because they were _full_..."

"We continue our mission without her," Jory decided.

"Very cute. I'm sure she'd appreciate that, but she is still in our party and we are not leaving without her, one way or the other." Alistair said firmly, a surprising air of authority emanating from his own voice.

"And why shouldn't we? She's already left us. She clearly doesn't need our help. I say we let her do all the dirty work, if that's what she wants, and we ship off." Jory was clearly done with Lady Cousland's _incompetence_ remarks.

"We still need to get those Grey Warden treaties, though, remember? _She_ has no clue where they are but _I_ do. And unfortunately you're here with _me_ , not her, so you've got to come with me to gather them. I'm telling you what I told her: let's try to be lenient with each other. You've all left a lot behind to be here, and none of us truly know what that means to the individual." _Dammit, he really was sounding like a leader, wasn't he?_ He hoped Duncan wouldn't take it as a good sign and ask him to lead more often. "You might as well fill your vials since you've got a nice selection to choose from." he gestured around.

Jory agreed with this, and he and Daveth each picked a hurlock. Jory accidentally squirted himself in the face with blood when he pressed on the neck, instead of tipping the creature for a blood flow; Alistair and Daveth both laughed loudly.

"It's smells horrible!" Jory groaned.

"If you think _that's_ bad," Alistair poked fun, "you will _love_ what's next!"

"I'm sure I will." Jory wiped the dark, sticky, rancid-smelling blood off his face. It left his face in a smeared mess.

Daveth, apparently out of habit, looted the bodies. To Alistair's surprise, the rogue found silvers and coppers, even a sovereign. Daveth happily declared no one should ever pass up the chance to loot the dead.

"A bit creepy, that," Alistair commented. "What do you suppose Darkspawn use coin for?" he was honestly curious.

"They're not very intelligent, right? I reckon they're like magpies. Attracted to shiny things," Jory said as if it were fact.

"Or they could have, I don't know, a whole Darkspawn City. What do you think?" Alistair mused. "I mean, where do they get their armor and weapons from if they're no smarter than birds? They're probably got a whole underground market somewhere, with a smith and everything."

"It's bound to be an expensive one, if only the Darkspawn can find him and they've got to loot our dead just to get coin," Daveth entertained Alistair's imagination.

"Both of you seem to have an alarming amount of spare time on your hands, to think that up," Jory said.

Alistair grinned, Daveth chuckled. These recruits weren't so bad, Alistair decided. "This sort of thing is natural for Grey Wardens," Alistair joked. "Nothing else to do once everyone's drunk around the fire together. You should hear the gryphon stories."

Once blood was collected and Daveth finished looting, they set off again. A display of impaled heads up the hill betokened another darkspawn outpost; Alistair's destination lay behind, an ancient weathered tower. They sloshed through the marsh, with Daveth complaining how water in his boots hinders his sneaking ability.

Something felt wrong, though. Alistair felt their approach should at least greet them with dead bodies, though like the camp Daveth looted, this one seemed empty. Lady Cousland still wasn't in sight or sound. Alistair worried but tried to hide it from the men. He had a feeling he would have to scout for this woman tonight until the trees completely blocked the moonlight. A couple dozen paces and finally sounds of battle; oddly this eased Alistair's gut. Combat meant _still alive,_ no dead bodies to collect.

Alistair's gut flipped. The Darkspawn were indeed fighting, but gathered in a circle all bashing down on something amid; a green fog hung waist-down. "Oh, no…" Alistair feared the worst – he'd have to carry the noblewoman's body back to camp, if there was anything _left_ to carry back.

Suddenly, hands unhooked one of the Lady's packs from his belt. He looked over, and a hand clamped over his mouth as he opened it to protest.

"Shh." she hushed. Lady Cousland searched Alistair's eyes. Her pupils were dilated, her breath hot and rapid against his face even from her distance; she was running on pure adrenaline. She released his face and dug a bundle of twigs and a small ball of twine from one of her bags. She shoved the purse back in his hand and unfolded the twigs. Alistair watched inspired as they straightened into two long curves; she'd made a string-less bow. With a jerk of her bow arm, the twigs snapped firmly in place.

"Where did you get that?" Alistair hissed in envy.

"I made it!" she whispered back. She took her thin twine and strung it taut through the ends. "Ten sovereigns, they don't know I've gone until I kill one?" Her eyes glanced from the Darkspawn to her bow as she tied the ends.

"I don't have ten sovereigns," he said quietly.

"Three, then."

"You're on."

She stole an arrow from Daveth's quiver and readied her aim. The arrow flew straight into the back of a hurlock's head. The circle of Darskpawn halted, all in mid-swing, and watched the wounded hurlock fall.

Alistair muttered a curse. "I was sort of hoping you'd miss," he admitted.

The Darkspawn looked over as another arrow shot through the side of a genlock's head. Raucous outrage prefaced a charging Tainted squad.

"Was that really worth three sovereigns?" Alistair complained. But Lady Cousland was already running to meet the monstrosities. Alistair groaned loudly; he did _not_ want to fight the whole pack at once. He readied his shield and sword anyway and ran up the rest of the hill after her. He heard the footsteps of Jory and Daveth behind him.

Lady Cousland didn't really seem to need help though. With her bow in her left hand, she used it to whip across the darkspawn faces, and while they were stunned from the sting of the bow, she would either cut their throats or stab their necks. All of her attacks were quick, none could escape her dagger. After a few slap-and-stabs, she dropped her clever bow and gripped her other dagger. Alistair glanced back in time to see a genlock hit her in the face with the end of its staff; she staggered, stunned, but quickly recovered. She glared and took stance, flipping her daggers with the blades toward the sky. She lunged in a whirlwind of fury, daggers whipping astir in a wide berth in front of her, not giving the genlock time to react or defend. Cuts were undefined from where Alistair was, but gooey blackened blood seeped out in wide ribbons. Lady Cousland put the creature out of its misery by shoving a dagger sideways in its mouth, then with great precision kicked the blunt of the hilt, sending the blade through the skull to pin it to the ground. Without hesitation she retrieved her dagger and wheeled on the hurlock attacking Jory. She stuck both daggers in the back, one at the shoulder, the other at the top of the spine. The noblewoman carved down and across, slicing through armor like cloth. The hurlock screamed, reaching for its back as if trying to pat out flames. She spun it by the shoulders about face, stabbed it center visage, and with pure ease moved on to Alistair's hurlock. Alistair had to halt his own attack because she obstructed him. Beneath the hurlock's arms she stopped, pivoted her own arm diagonally back sending her short blade straight into its neck. Again without pause she turned to level her twisted arm, shoving the other dagger through the hurlock's head; the blade sparked when she jerked it back out of the helmet.

Upon the two hurlocks and genlock attacking Jory and Daveth, Lady Cousland for once hesitated. Her eyes swarmed all over the three creatures. She stopped Alistair from joining the fight by shoving her daggers flat against his chest – _a silent command to hold her weapons._ She sprinted kicked in the knee of a hurlock wielding a double-edged axe. It toppled her way as its leg lost hold of the ground. Lady Cousland caught the weapon, stomped on the fallen hurlock's face, and without warning again swung the battleaxe sideways with even greater control than she'd already exercised. It sliced clean though the remaining genlock's middle; Daveth barely dodged her swing in time.

Alistair well knew he and the male recruits all just stood watching. This noble Lady – just a normal-looking woman, not remotely close to comparing in muscle on Alistair or Jory – was slaughtering barbarous enemies like she might slice bread. They watched her hold the battleaxe as a cricket mallet; she even made the swing look effortless though Alistair had plenty experience with such weapons to know that wasn't the case. The axe met the last Darkspawn in the crotch but stuck at the hip; the look about the recruits said no one blamed the hurlock for shrieking the way it did.

The axe could not be freed; Lady Cousland dropped the handle, unbalancing the hurlock. It tipped awkwardly, at the mercy of the angled blade it was cragfast on. The distressed hurlock in an unfortunate bow, already glutted with injuries to bleed out from, wasn't dying fast enough for Lady Cousland. She grabbed a crude sword and brought it down across the neck execution-style. The head bounced and rolled by Jory's feet; Jory rolled it away the tip of his sword.

Again, as if she had done nothing out of the ordinary, Lady Cousland dropped the weapon and walked casually up toward the entrance of the ruined Colosseum.


	2. Witch of the Wilds

"Is this what's left of your tower?" Lady Cousland asked with an insouciant gesture, as if she hadn't just destroyed an entire pack of Darkspawn almost single-handledly.

"Whoa, whoa – hey! Wait a bit! Can we talk about this?" Alistair caught up to her.

"Are you married? Will you marry me?" Daveth jogged up to meet her, too.

"Do you, also, want your wanker in two-halves?" she asked.

"Er," Daveth hesitated. "No. I suppose rejection is in my favor, in this case," and he hung back.

"You do realize you just slaughtered six very large Darkspawn all by yourself?" Alistair asked her.

"That's not true. Three of them were short. Is that your cache?" she pointed, but he ignored her.

"One of those short ones was a powerful mage," he tried to prompt her. "And…is that your signature, or something? Stabbing and dragging the blade?"

He wished she hadn't looked at him. She still bore the expression of someone heightened from battle, pupils wholly dilated, the veins at her temples bulging. "Would you like to find out?" Her voice was harsh and unwelcoming.

"Er…no. Thanks, though," he said, trying to mask his uneasiness with sarcasm.

"Then all of you stop talking to me!" she commanded. "I am not here to be anyone's friend!" She took a few firm steps ahead of him, then froze. She stared at something beyond her position.

A wild-looking woman in a very revealing top slowly walked down the ramp ahead of them. "Well, well," the woman's voice screamed of curiosity. "What do we have here? Scavengers? Come to pick off what's left of old bones?"

Alistair was very aware of Lady Cousland's reaction to this mysterious woman. The noble's green eyes practically sparkled, moving all over the woman's physique. She was still, her breathing even, her very aura rhyming with the rise and fall of her chest. Calmer than Alistair had yet seen of her. She seemed to be soaking in the woman's appearance. Lady Cousland was utterly enthralled by this new presence.

Sweet Maker! Did she prefer women? _That explains a lot,_ _actually_ , his thoughts concluded. Her whole attitude toward himself, Jory and Daveth had been impatient and unwilling. He resisted the urge to openly pinch his own face when he began picturing the two women together. _His_ pulse was starting to race, now. Andraste's Light, he needed to get away from these females! He silently prayed that he would not embarrass himself with his ridiculous fixation.

"I have been watching since your arrival. A woman needing no man's support, yet you remain with fools," the mysterious woman spoke to Lady Cousland. "Come now - who are you and what is your intent here? I shall offer my name if you give yours."

As if obeying a master's command, Lady Cousland acquiesced to the strange woman devoid of pause. "Tesslyn Cousland at your service, fair lady. I am half-certain our quest brings us to your chest."

"To her – her chest?" Daveth stammered, completely inadequate at hiding his own fascination with the mysterious woman. Perhaps he, too, picked up on Lady Cousland's eager gaze.

The mysterious woman smirked. "Well, now. Tis a proper greeting indeed, so _civil_ for the _Wilds_. You may call me Morrigan."

"And what of these idiots? What shall they call you?" Lady Cousland asked, her eyes not leaving Morrigan even to blink.

Morrigan hummed in amusement. "Something polite," she played along.

Lady Cousland turned her head with a glare that suspected immaturity. "I hope you heard that, _Chest-Seeker,"_ she told Daveth flatly.

"We shouldn't trust her," Alistair told the Cousland girl. He was trying to cover up that slight twinge of jealousy inside of him, the one that said a woman like her should be so stricken by the sight of _him_ , not some woman. But a part of him also wondered if magic was at work, or demon-dabbling; were all of them so suddenly in lust?

"I agree," Jory chimed in. "I've heard tales of witches in these parts."

"She looks Chasind, or worse. She won't be alone," Alistair predicted

"Oh! You fear barbarians will _swoop_ down upon you, do you?" Morrigan taunted, with a flap of her arms at _swoop._

"Yes." Alistair glared at her. _"Swooping_ is _bad_."

Lady Cousland went stiff for a moment, then her head turned in choppy notches toward Alistair. She looked at him in great wonder; the kindest expression she'd given him since they'd met. Her head returned facing forward. "Swooping… _swooping_ … _swoo-ping_." she was trying to mimic him. She looked back at him quizzically.

He couldn't believe this. _This_ is what interested her about him? "Swooping," he offered, stepping forward until he was at her side.

"…swooping…swoo- _ping_ …. _swoo_ -ping…" Lady Cousland practiced next to him; he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Listen, _Morrigan,_ " he said. "We need those Grey Warden documents in that chest. I'm assuming that's the correct chest, anyway, since there are no others around."

"I don't know about that," Daveth said, his voice drawling, "there seems to be more than one chest around here."

"Oh, Maker!" Alistair muttered. This was absolutely ridiculous. "Just give us the documents," he told Morrigan.

"I will not," Morrigan told him.

"What? Those documents are Grey Warden property! I demand that you hand them over, you….sneaky…witch-thief!" even he was aware of how ludicrous that sounded.

"How very eloquent," Morrigan mocked. "Twas not I who removed them, so tis not I who can hand them over."

"May I ask who did remove them?"

"Oh, welcome back," Alistair told Lady Cousland, his voice thick with satire. She gave the side of his leg a sharp kick without flinching a muscle in her face, and he hissed at the pressure in his calf.

"My mother is in possession of the documents you seek," Morrigan informed them.

"Will you take us to her?" Lady Cousland asked.

"You seem far more sensible than these men. I like you." Morrigan gave a sly smile. Daveth scoffed behind Alistair.

"Yeah, right," Alistair muttered. "I wouldn't believe her if I were you. First, it's _I like you -_ " he said in falsetto, "and then, _ZAP!_ Frog time."

"I _like_ frogs," Lady Cousland replied to Alistair.

"Great." he said flatly.

"If you are willing, Lady Morrigan, please take us to your mother?" Lady Cousland requested gently.

"As you wish. Follow me." Morrigan walked by them and wound around the side of the crumbled remains of the old Grey Warden fort.

"Are you sure it's safe to follow her?" Alistair asked Lady Cousland, walking beside her anyway.

"Oh, yes. If all else fails, we shall just _swoop_ down upon her!" She raised her arms like Morrigan had, mimicking Alistair's _swoop_ well.

"I'm almost positive you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you?" he teased, sounding more judgmental than he actually felt.

"You are testing many waters, boy."

"Well, that's hardly fair, now, is it? You never even gave me fair warning." He actually surprised himself; the flirt just flew out of his mouth. He hadn't even planned that one.

Following this Morrigan character led them deeper into the swamp. Gloomy, muddy, mossy, slosh with very little actual dry land to step on. Jory and Daveth were behind Alistair quietly twittering the possibilities of Morrigan really being a witch, and what she might do to them, even going as far as Lady Cousland knew which was why she was being nice, to gain them favor.

Alistair looked at Lady Cousland to check her reaction, but she appeared to be paying no attention to the other recruits. He glanced up at Morrigan, then back at the noble at his side. "So," he said.

"Yes?" She sighed when he hesitated.

" _Do_ you want to…. _swoop_ down on her?" He dreaded the pain that he predicted would immediately follow his tease.

Lady Cousland reached over and shoved him, and he very nearly fell into the swamp water. He couldn't help laughing, though, even waving his arms madly to regain balance. She, however, had stronger resolve.

"Not even a smile for that one?" He chuckled. "And here I'd thought that was pretty good."

"Quite a personal question to ask a Lady, don't you agree?"

"I don't believe for a second that you're offended." He huffed out one last laugh. "You curse up storms like pirates caught…pirating."

Her eyes shifted his way.

"The witch did say I have eloquence," he joked.

"Please stop talking," she requested distantly. "I have already insisted I do not wish to be your friend."

"You really should re-think that. In a few hours, you may be stuck with me for the rest of your life."

"It's really not polite to throw around threats when your opponent subsides."

He laughed in the irony. "I clearly recall you threatening me earlier, actually. You said you were going to conveniently forget whose side you were supposed to be on." He was enjoying the banter, though.

"That was before I saved your hides a few times over."

"Right. I really pressured you to do that. How old are you?" He changed the subject.

She sighed. "I am serious. I do not wish to talk at all. Least of all to a boy who's toying with chance because he feels threatened by the presence of a woman, of all things."

"Are – are you accusing me of being jealous? Of her?" He gave a nod toward Morrigan.

"I am. Now please desist your tongue."

"All right, fine. Just know that I can quite charming when I really want to be. I'll get you to talk, eventually."

"I will kill you first."

"I'm pretty sure you would have already. You were fairly upset with me, earlier."

She turned her head to glare at him, and he held his hands up. "I'm shutting up!" He agreed. He walked in silence with her for the next few moments.

He didn't like the looks of the area Morrigan led them to. A wooden shack leaning upon a wooden high-rise construct that seemed to be simultaneously supporting an old, broken stone windmill. The land past the shack seemed to be more elevated than the rest of the swamp, looked dry enough. But ultimately they were still surrounded by the swamp water. Completely cut off from anyone else.

"If ever there was a witch-y place, this is it," Alistair said.

Lady Cousland shook her head. "It's missing a bonfire, a large cauldron and thirteen naked gypsies adorned in a hundred beaded necklaces dancing to drums played by sculpted men in chains," she said without a blink of hesitation, as if she knew exactly what a witch-y place ought to look like.

He smirked, musing stronger in his head than he allowed his face to show. She was quite cold at time, but also quite funny. He was slowly leaning toward favoring her, instead of his initial appall at her brutality. "When we get back to camp, you have got to tell me how you know this."

"Not a chance. It's something you'd have to see to understand, and I doubt the Revered Mothers will let me gather the women on site to get naked and dance with." She was nearly too witty for him to handle.

"I think you should try anyway." He smirked harder when she side-glanced him again.

An old woman exited the crooked cottage door.

"We have visitors, mother," Morrigan announced.

"I can see that, girl!" The old woman snapped.

Lady Cousland tensed up beside Alistair, and he felt her aura instantly grow cold near him. Her eyebrows reached so high into her forehead they might as well have jumped.

"So, this stranger comes to my home and disapproves of how I talk to my own daughter?" The old lady cackled.

Lady Cousland frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes, I do."

Alistair was curious to see if she was actually going to do anything to this old woman; curious, and a little afraid, given how mysterious Morrigan already was.

"They are Grey Wardens, mother," Morrigan interceded.

"Ah. Then you're looking for your documents. I was wondering how long it would take you to show up."

"Wait," Alistair cut off Lady Cousland as soon as she opened her mouth, expecting her to resist. He took a step forward. "You were expecting us to come for them? Why?"

"You need these Treaties." The old lady let out a laugh. "Grey Wardens are the only ones who can stop a Blight, yes?"

"So why take them if you knew we needed them?" Alistair asked.

She laughed again. "Would you rather I left them there? That place was overrun by Darkspawn! I daresay they wouldn't have survived in a Darkspawn camp for very long. If the Blight remains unchecked because these Treaties got destroyed, that doesn't help me any."

"You – Oh. You protected them?"

"Of course I did! I have no interest in dying, either! Morrigan, fetch the papers for these Grey Wardens."

" _Please_."

Everyone stared at Lady Cousland. Alistair had never imagined such a kind word could ever sound so cruel and empty.

"Don't make her mad! She might be a witch, too!" Daveth hissed.

"Witches do not bother me." Tesslyn stared hard without blinking. "My blades are sharper and my reflexes quicker than any spell. What irritates me is that, on top of everything else I've had to deal with these past four days, including the idiots I'm forced to be here with -"

She was clearly talking directly to the old woman…about Alistair, not just about the recruits. He felt a pang. He'd thought they were making progress as a team. She really only thought he was an idiot?

"- now I've got this old hag who stole important documents and treats the single helpful person I've come across, ostensibly her daughter, like a three-sovereign elvhen slave boy sold merely for his pretty face and taut rump." She glared hard at the old woman, her jaw and lips tight.

Alistair genuinely didn't know how he should intervene. Duncan wouldn't approve of Lady Cousland acting like this at all.

The moody noble lady shifted her gaze to Morrigan, who was frozen at the door with her hand on the knob; apparently nobody had ever dared to talk to her mother like Lady Cousland just had. "If it's no trouble, Lady Morrigan, I ask you to please retrieve the documents we seek." The gentleness in her voice shocked Alistair. This Lady could change her demeanor from menacing to tender in the blink of an eye. She had quite a bit of control inside of her, and was used to getting her way, it appeared.

The old woman scoffed when Morrigan uncertainly agreed to Lady Cousland's favor and disappeared inside the shack. Neither the old woman or Lady Cousland seemed to be intimidated by the other.

"Er," Alistair sought something quick to say, to try to divert the tension. "Who are you, exactly? Besides Morrigan's mother?"

"I go by many names," the old woman answered him. Despite Lady Cousland's best attempt to unravel her, the old woman's voice and posture remained steady. "I have been called Child-Stealer, Witch of the Wilds, Flemeth -"

"Asha-bellanar," Lady Cousland continued for her, still glaring. "The Demon Goddess, the Dragon Witch, the Shape-shifter. Even more of a reason not to trust you."

"Someone has been keeping up with her studies," Flemeth mused.

"Don't toy with me, demon." She was practically on fire.

Flemeth only laughed, though. "And how would you know if you were being toyed with at all?"

"Wait. _The_ Flemeth? From the stories?" Alistair tried to ignore his moody recruit.

Flemeth laughed. "That depends on which story you want to believe."

He, too, laughed. "This?" He gestured to Flemeth and glanced at Lady Cousland. "This is a dreaded Witch of the Wilds?" He mused.

"Well! I'm glad _one_ of us is in a good mood!" Flemeth was just as sarcastic as Lady Cousland, though. "You keep sour company, boy."

"I -" Alistair didn't know how to respond to that without disrespecting Lady Cousland, which didn't seem wise considering her skill with any sort of blade. He looked at his female recruit hesitantly.

Lady Cousland rolled her eyes at him and unfolded her arms. "I am _so_ sick of _everyone_!" she muttered. "Collect your documents yourself." She ripped her pouches from Alistair's belt.

"Ow! Hey!" he softly protested under the sharp tug she'd given. He watched her step away. "Are you really leaving?"

"Does it look like I'm still there?" she snapped.

Morrigan looked at Lady Cousland in disbelief. She scoffed and threw up her arms. "Really! After all that fuss, she simply walks away! I swear, mother, this is making me never want to be kind to people again!"

"That's…comforting." Alistair said, watching his charge wander from sight once again.


	3. The Joining and the Unexpected

The old woman had Morrigan lead the men out of their niche of the swamp. By the time Alistair, Jory, and Daveth returned to camp, the sun had rested. The grounds sparkled here and there with light from torches and campfires, and the rising moons allowed for prominent shadows from the old trees that greeted them just inside the gates.

Lady Cousland stood with Duncan at the bonfire near their tents. Alistair wanted to make a crude comment about her repeated departures and antagonizing behavior in the Wilds, but the expression on her face shut his mouth. She had returned to that melancholic, tortured-from-inside state again, the face she wore when they'd met.

Duncan ceased the conversation before Alistair caught any of it. "Glad to see you didn't get lost this time, Alistair," he teased.

"Hey!" Alistair laughed. "I've grown quite familiar with the Wilds, you know."

Duncan smiled. "After losing your way how many times?" Alistair couldn't deny this; Duncan made him lead his first few times out in the Wilds, and Alistair had never been more turned around in his life. His mentor continued: "I hear you ran into trouble with the documents?"

Alistair felt like he was being set up, again, just like Flemeth had done. He knew Duncan wasn't intentional or sinister like the old woman, but again - how could he answer without disrespecting his charge? The only "trouble" had been caused by Lady Cousland. "Nothing I couldn't handle. I happen to have a silver tongue, Duncan." He quickly said.

"That's not exactly the word I'd use," Duncan chuckled, and Alistair laughed on purpose, however, amused. "But at any rate, I'm glad you returned successfully. Tesslyn?"

Lady Cousland lifted her head but not her eyes. Alistair didn't know if he should feel sorry for her, or suspect she fished for attention.

"Are you sure you're up for this tonight?" Duncan asked her.

"It should be tonight. Before I have time to change my mind. That won't bode well for anyone here."

"I agree," said Jory. "Let's get this over with."

"He was talking to me!" she snapped at Jory, still glaring. "There are worse things in life than voluntarily leaving your pregnant wife at home where she is safe."

"We all face some difficulty when we become Grey Wardens," Duncan intervened kindly. "I assure you we all end up family before long."

"We will see." She lowered her eyes again. From the corner of his eyes, Alistair could see Duncan observe him watching Lady Cousland.

"Very well. Yes, if all of you are ready, follow Alistair. I'll have the mages prepare the ritual," Duncan informed them.

"Ah – Duncan! What do I do with the Treaties?" Alistair asked.

"Hold on to them for now. We don't need them yet; hopefully at all. I know you'll keep them safe." Duncan collected the vials of Darkspawn blood from Jory and Daveth, then took his leave.

"All right, then." Alistair looked at his three recruits. The overly-cautious warrior, the moody assassin, the eager rogue. Almost wishing he could trade in Lady Cousland for maybe a man, or anyone, really, who wasn't constantly brooding with violent tendencies, he told Jory and Daveth to head up past the smith. He silently stopped Lady Cousland as she began to follow the men. She looked at Alistair as he watched the men walk out of earshot. Then he met her eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked. Alistair wanted this experience to turn out good.

The blood smear across her face had dried and was cracking, looking like she'd scratched half away. "I don't see how my well-being is any concern of yours."

"Of course it's my concern, you're _my_ recruit," he reminded her. "I'm in charge of you until Duncan assigns you to someone else. Do you need to talk?"

"I have repeatedly told you today -"

"Eventually, you will have to talk to someone," he interrupted gently. "Might as well be now and get it off your chest."

"That seems to be a reoccurring interest within our little party, tonight," she said sourly.

"Hm. Yes, we are a highly devoted band of Chest-Seekers, aren't we?" he joked. "But I'm serious."

"As am I."

"About what, exactly? You haven't said a word aside from death threats and telling us to shut up." Alistair watched as she dropped her gaze. "I'm old enough to know when something bothers someone. And contrary to popular belief, I'm actually quite knowledgeable. The only thing you're hiding from me is the details. I am well aware you're upset for a reason. _I'd_ like to know _what_. I'd _like_ to be your friend. And more importantly, I do _not_ wish to be your _enemy_. I've seen what you do to your enemies." He sighed when his attempt at humor failed. "Very well. Let's go."

Her eyes remained glued to the ground as she kept pace with him. The silent walk was awkward, but thankfully not long. He glanced at her as they neared Jory and Daveth.

"Oh, look," he made another attempt to coax a smile from her. "It's where we first met!" he let his voice drip with affection.

She shot a glare that insisted she was not amused; Alistair couldn't help a laugh. "I'm really not in the mood," she said.

"You haven't been in the mood since I met you," he reminded her. "Is it _me_ you don't like?" he asked, suddenly very curious if he was her source of moodiness.

"It has nothing to do with you."

"Really? That's a first. Usually, when people threaten me, it's because they genuinely don't like me."

"I am not so shallow," she growled. Alistair raised an eyebrow at her. "But I know I have not shown any of that today. What I am going through is mine to deal with. I do not wish friends or advice."

"Suit yourself. I'll keep pestering you anyway."

She winced at his words and veered off away from him, even standing near Daveth to do so.

Duncan walked up the ramp with the large Joining chalice. "Alistair, would you lead us, please?"

"Certainly," Alistair agreed. He bowed his head and clasped his hands together. "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn." He hesitated only briefly; from the corner of his eyes, he could see Lady Cousland staring at him. He could feel her gaze as if it were a spell placed on him. "And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day, we shall join you."

He immediately sought her eyes when he lifted his head. He knew the look on her face. It was the look of one who quested the Chantry for comfort in prayer. As if understanding he could read her, she lowered her eyes and turned her head.

"Welcome to your Joining," Duncan told the three recruits. "Since the creation of the very first Grey Warden, the Joining Ritual has been placed upon every individual entering the order. As Grey Wardens, we can hear and feel the Darkspawn because we take their very essence into our being. We take a part of their life force into us as our own, and in turn, we feel their presence and can glimpse of their plans -"

"Pregnancy."

The four of them looked at Lady Cousland. She glanced around awkwardly.

"You're describing pregnancy," she said. Alistair and Daveth snickered. "I mean, I know it's impossible to get pregnant by a cup, and men certainly can't become so, but…that's what it sounds like you're…describing." She looked uncomfortable. "Am I allowed to get drunk after this?" It was almost a plead.

Alistair exchanged a smirk with Duncan, only Alistair couldn't hold in his laugh. "I will personally hunt down the strongest bottle in camp for you," he promised with a chuckle.

"Wait, is that Darkspawn blood? Is that why you had us collect it?" Jory's voice spiked on the verge of panic.

"I did all the work out there. You have no room to complain." Lady Cousland's suddenly face darkened. If she didn't like Alistair, she _hated_ Jory.

"I am ready," Daveth announced fearlessly. He took the chalice and drank of it before Duncan had time to finish the rest of the Joining speech. Duncan plucked the chalice, and with good caution: in a blink Daveth spasmed. Foam spilled from his mouth like water bubbling up through thick mud before his body dropped like a straw doll. His eyes clouded a sickly gray as spasms rolled him over, tiny veins black and extending toward grayed out pupils like demonic claws.

"I am sorry, Daveth," Duncan spoke sympathetically. Alistair had to remind himself he had known the risks, but it was still unfortunate. Daveth would have made a fine Grey Warden and fun companion. "Jory." Duncan turned toward the warrior.

Jory was stricken, now. He backed up against the pillar. "You can't make me do this! There is no glory in this death!" He aimed his weapon at Duncan.

"Jory -" Alistair said warningly.

"There is no turning back," Lady Cousland said as if reciting a grim prophecy. The look on her face suggested she was gladly accepting death, and the way she stared showed she didn't understand how Jory wouldn't want this. "There is no glory in retreat."

"This is a sacrifice! A blood sacrifice! This isn't a Joining, it's murder!"

"There is a good chance you'll survive it," Alistair tried to encourage.

"In War, Victory. In Peace, Vigilance," Lady Cousland spake just as implacably. "In Death, Sacrifice. Cowardice will do your wife and child no honor."

Alistair shot her a glare to silence without speaking, but she wasn't aware of him.

"I didn't come here to die!" Jory insisted.

"Maybe that's your problem! I _did_ come to die, but so far I have been more successful than two of you combined!" She took the goblet from Duncan and brought it to her face.

What was it with this batch of recruits so eager to Join before their turn?

She swallowed two gulps, wincing the whole time. Alistair snatched the chalice when she trembled. She paused to breathe, then her whole body cringed. She grabbed her head like the Archdemon itself screeched at her. Weakened knees failed her, almost not allowing time to brace herself before her face hit stone.

A moment later, she collapsed, and Alistair's gut jumped again. Would this Joining claim all the recruits?

"She's dead! You killed her!" Jory cried out.

Alistair knelt and turned her over. He felt hot breath on his arm before he could touch her neck to find a pulse. Relief in his sigh was more obvious than he wanted the others to hear, especially Duncan. "She's alive," he said. It shouldn't surprise him _this_ woman survived, yet he was alleviated she wasn't dead. He reached to move her hair from her face but stopped himself. _Wait, that was intimate, isn't it?_ Yes, intimate, _and_ inappropriate, he told himself. Alistair withdrew his hand completely. "She's breathing. She'll awake in an hour or so. Jory," he added, having to remind himself he was trying to reassure his recruit, not himself, of Lady Cousland's survival.

Duncan retrieved the chalice from Alistair and held it out to the remaining recruit. "Jory, there is no turning back."

"That's exactly what she just said! So this is a ploy! Why do you do this?"

"Jory…" Duncan set the chalice on the stone podium. Alistair looked from the goblet to Duncan. Duncan was preparing to prevent Jory from leaving with the knowledge of the Joining.

"No! You ask too much!" Jory straightened his arms and gave a wide swing without much control, clearly just hoping he'd either somehow manage a cut or scare Duncan off.

Before Alistair could even stand to intervene, Duncan stuck Jory with his dagger. "I am sorry, Jory," Duncan muttered, twisting the blade to ensure an instant death.

Alistair stood as Duncan pulled his dagger out. Jory crumpled to the ground. "Are you all right, Duncan?" he asked. He hadn't seen his mentor need to stop a recruit before. It was obvious the act pained him. Regret was all over Duncan's face.

"I am." Duncan sighed. "I'll be back shortly. I'll send some men to come for the bodies. Watch over your charge, Alistair."

"Yes, Duncan, of course," he promised with a nod. He watched Duncan walk away.

Alistair hated Joinings for this reason. Too much death. _Unnecessary_ death. He wondered how men could be so eager to become Wardens yet so terrified for the initiation; it seemed no different than the odds of being a soldier. These were his first recruits, too; granted he hadn't actually recruited them, that was all Duncan's doing. Alistair was to be in charge of them, though. They were to follow his lead, and he would train them, teach them about the different types of Darkspawn, what kind of weaponry Darkspawn favored, he was also supposed to help them practice with their blades.

He looked down at the sole survivor. She frowned and twitched in her sopor. Alistair was stuck with the moody, incommunicable one…and yet he was glad it was her who survived. She would be an effective Grey Warden. He had a feeling a better personality was hidden behind that wall of a mask she wore, at least he hoped she did.

Jory was forming a puddle. Alistair crouched and picked up Lady Cousland, and moved her away from the dead bodies. Duncan returned just as Alistair sat against the wall. His senior instructed four others to take the bodies away, then he sat a distance from Alistair against the stone wall.

"She's quite moody, you know," Alistair said of Lady Cousland. He watched her continue to twitch in her sleep.

"Tesslyn has recently been through a great deal, Alistair. I will let her give you the details. Be patient with her. She seemed pleasant enough prior to our emergency leave," Duncan told him.

"That's her name? Tez-something?"

Duncan smiled in amusement. "Tesslyn. What have you been calling her?"

"I have been calling her _'Hey!'"_

The smile widened. "You didn't think to ask?"

"I've been afraid to. You obviously haven't seen her with a blade when she's angry."

Duncan laughed.

"Speaking of which," Alistair said, "I think you should join me at dawn to see the damage she caused. It's a mess of Darkspawn corpses out there."

"Impressive, is she?"

"More like _scary_. Did you know she's an assassin? That's what Daveth called her anyway, and since he's in... _was_ in similar business, all the sneaking and such, I assume he knew what he was talking about."

"I know what she is." Duncan nodded. "I have not had the pleasure of seeing her skills firsthand, but I know _of_ her. I have been trying to recruit her for seven years; she is slippery. Her skill and…accomplishments are known amongst certain nobles across many parts of Thedas."

"Accomplishments? Duncan, she _slaughtered_ the Darkspawn," he tried to convince the man.

"Good. As should all Grey Wardens."

 _"By herself._ Which is another problem - she refused to stay with us and threatened me when I asked her to be patient with Jory and Daveth. She snuck off, used us as bait so she could ambush a group, then snuck off again. We found a camp which all the necks had been sliced open – don't get me wrong, they were Darkspawn, they had it coming – and still no sign of her, mind you," he realized he was babbling fast, "then we reach the old fortress and _Maker's Breath_! Duncan thought I was going to have to carry her body back! The Darkspawn had surrounded something and were beating on it, and I thought it was her! Then, all of a sudden, she's _right next_ to me unfolding this bundle of sticks – it turned out to be a ridiculously clever bow, by the way, you should have her show it to you – and she bets me ten sovereigns she can kill one before they realize they're not actually beating on her – _don't_ worry; I _only_ accepted _three_ sovereigns."

Duncan chuckled.

"So she does, she shoots two, in fact," Alistair continued, "right through the head. Then she runs up ahead of us and _massacres_ the lot. I'm not joking. She cut one completely in half, carved up the others like a roast – she's _very fond of stabbing_."

Duncan laughed again. "Are you terrified, Alistair, or in love?" He teased.

"Both!" he joked, unable to hold back a grin. "Even though I know it's unhealthy."

He grinned at Alistair. "Did you pay her yet? The three sovereigns."

"No, not yet. Seriously, you must see what she did. Granted they're not eaten by the wolves, the damage should still be evident." He paused. "Did Darkspawn get her family?"

"I will let her be the one to tell you. She has asked me not to say anything after King Cailan gushed promises of vengeance."

"Was she _nice_ to Cailan? Is that why he gushed? Does he remember he's married?" _Maker's breath,_ _he hadn't meant to sound so jealous!_

Duncan laughed again. "Lovely women certainly make men behave funny, don't they?"

"She is lovely," Alistair agreed. "And deadly. Major points off for attitude, plus the ability to expose a man's spine while he's still alive."

Duncan mused a moment. "Perhaps I will go see all this damage she's done."

"They may look worse in the morning. I suggest we eat _after_." Alistair thought about the Joining he had just witnessed, and the behaviors of each recruit. "Do you really think she came here to die?" She lay within arms-reach of him, joints still fidgeting.

"It is possible. Alas, she survives. She may awake disappointed."

"Did she not want to come?"

"She didn't seem against it, but circumstances may have changed her motivation."

"I don't think she _can_ die," Alistair pondered out loud. Duncan looked at him in wait. "I mean, one of the Darkspawn hit her in the face, and then she tore it to shreds. It's like her body doesn't know what it's supposed to do when it gets hurt."

"You think she's immortal?"

Alistair huffed with a smile, realizing how silly he must sound. "No, I don't suppose she is. She did pass out, after all."

They sat in silence for a while. Alistair could hear the distant sounds of drunken soldiers. The breeze hummed around the stage and in between the trees and stone columns. The torches at the end of the walk were crackling and sparking, and tiny wings glittered drunkenly in the glow with magnificent shadows looming on the rock pillars around them as if they were really giants.

Alistair realized he hadn't sat down all day. Just as he admitted to himself the moment's stillness was peaceful and welcomed compared to the day's events, his body reminded him he was growing bored, and when he was bored, he fell asleep.

"If she doesn't wake up soon, _she'll_ have to wake _me_ up."

"So do something to keep occupied. Clean your blade or your shield."

Alistair shook his head. "No need. I honestly didn't use them much," he said all too casually.

Duncan smirked.

"Is this why there aren't many women in the order? Because if we had, say, five of _her_ , there would be no _need_ for anyone else?" he guessed.

Duncan laughed. "A good enough reason to recruit as many men as possible, no?"

Lady Cousland – Tesslyn – cringed and gave a feeble cry. Alistair perked up and moved to her side. "It's all right," he said tenderly, more relieved by her waking than he thought he should be. She may be moody, but she was already a good Grey Warden. And one surviving recruit was better than none. Lady Cousland groaned and tried to push herself up on wobbling elbows.

"It is done." Duncan stood to join them.

"What happened?" she mumbled. "My head!" She pressed on her forehead with her palm, wincing beneath her hand.

"You survived your Joining," Alistair told her.

"Welcome to the Grey Wardens," Duncan said.

"I'm – what?" she looked at Alistair like she had trouble focusing.

"Yes, the idiots are dead, but you survived. Rum, wine, or ale?" he offered. Duncan immediately scolded him. "What? She asked to get drunk after." Alistair helped Tesslyn to her feet.

Duncan sighed out a reluctant approval, and asked, "How do you feel?"

"Like I poisoned myself." Dizzy eyes tried to focus as she looked around. "Where's my dog?"

"He is in the kennels with the other mabari. I didn't think it wise for him to see you partake in the ritual, just in case," Duncan told her.

Tesslyn tried to walk, but Alistair had to catch her again. "Po," she called out weakly. She seemed unaware Alistair held her up.

"Alistair, take her back to the tents," Duncan instructed. "I will see you both in the morning. Things will get better, Tesslyn, in time. We are here for you."

The wobbly new Warden ignored her senior. "Po!" she forced her voice to carry out.

A yelp sounded a distance off, followed by a man's cry of surprise. A moment later, a mabari ran up the stone ramp. It halted in front of Tesslyn and cocked its head at her. It let out a whine of inquiry.

"Oh, Po!" she sank down and embraced the hound. She buried her face in its coat as a sob shook her shoulders.

"I will make sure your fires are stoked," Duncan said, looking upon Tesslyn and the dog in sympathy.

"Thank you, Duncan," Alistair said as Duncan took his leave. Alistair knelt, and the dog growled a warning. "Calm down, pooch. I'm here to help," he assured the war dog.

The dog whined and cocked its head again as if asking _what's wrong with her?_

"There's nothing wrong with her," he answered. "Well, aside from the Taint. But I have it too. That's what makes us Grey Wardens. It gives us an edge to defeat the Darkspawn. That's a good thing, isn't it?"

The dog barked in agreement.

"Good. Now, er, Tesslyn, right? Let me walk you over to camp, all right? You can hide out in your tent with your mabari, and I'll go procure a bottle of wine for you."

After a moment, Tesslyn finally sat back. She seemed ashamed, perhaps, to look at him in such sadness. She indeed looked sad. Tears in two streams glistened down her cheeks like quartz and fluorspar, stealing their hue from the moonlight to the left and the blazing torches ahead. As beautiful as her tears reflected, it was their very echo of light that accented her sorrow.

"I'm sorry things didn't work out like you were hoping," he condoled.

She raised her eyes to make contact, although timidly. He could tell the effort was forced. "It's not so bad. I can promise you that." He held out his hand. "Come on. Let's at least get you to your tent." She wiped one palm across her cheeks, and the other hand grasped his. He kept his arm firm while he pulled her up. "Are you hungry? I was famished after my Joining. For weeks, actually."

"No."

"Really? Maybe it's different for women. Did you have any dreams?" With her arm in his, he led her down the stone ramp.

"…the dragon…" Her eyes darted.

"Yes, that's the Archdemon. Well, that's the form it's taking. Whether it's really a dragon, who knows? Personally, the dreams frighten me. I wake up sweating," he admitted. He noticed she kept her head pointed toward the ground, so he quit talking and simply guided her in silence to their camp area.

"So…" he said as he released her arm in front of the tent he'd had to set up for her prior to her arrival. "Wine? Ale? We had some rum floating around here somewhere."

"Brandy," she murmured.

"I…Okay. I'll see what I can do." Only one person he knew of on-site had brandy – King Cailan. Alistair really didn't want to speak to him, but he would attempt to for this strange and saddened Lady.

Lucky for him, Cailan was returning to his tent when Alistair approached. Two heavily armed royal guards were with him as well.

"King Cailan," Alistair greeted with sarcastic joy.

"Oh. It's you," Cailan replied dully.

"Stand back," one guard said.

"I'm sorry, but this is important Grey Warden business," Alistair told them.

"Then where is Duncan?" It was no secret Cailan wasn't his friend, despite the rumors Cailan thought he was a fine Grey Warden.

"It's not about Duncan, this is about Lady Cousland."

This got Cailan's attention. "Oh?" the King asked in sincere interest.

"Very nice." Alistair frowned, not amused. "She's had a rough week and wants brandy. You're the only one I know of who has any here, so I thought…I don't know…I might be able to buy a bottle from you?" he requested.

"You can tell her she's more than welcome to share a drink in my tent," Cailan answered.

Alistair laughed emptily, and Cailan did a double-take. "She just mutilated a whole pack of Darkspawn because _one_ of them knocked her in the head. And you want that woman in your tent?" he was too amused to stop laughing. "What if you accidentally…" he shrugged, "I don't know, don't fill her glass as full as she'd like? Or talk too much? She doesn't seem to like talking!" The notion irked him, but he couldn't help enjoying the idea of her maiming Cailan all the same. "I can't imagine Fereldan would like to wake up to find her king _headless_ tomorrow." He caught a glimpse of a woman walking sluggishly alongside a mabari. He knew exactly who it was. "Hey! I told you to stay still! You need to – _oh!_ Why do I even bother?" he huffed.

Cailan peered over, reeking of curiosity. "Is that her?"

 _"Yes,_ but you _can't have_ her, Cailan. She's a Grey Warden now, not just some nobody-servant-girl. _And_ she just woke up from her Joining; she's a little disoriented. She's supposed to be resting." Alistair really didn't like the idea of Cailan so interested in his charge.

"She's disoriented and you want to get her _drunk?_ How is that any better than me sharing a drink with her in my tent?" Cailan countered.

"Er…one, you're married, I'm not. Two, I don't plan on bedding her. According to Duncan, she's just experienced some tragedy at home -"

"Ah, yes. Arl Howe's men killed her family, all but her brother, I hear. Teyrn Cousland was supposed to meet me this morning but never showed." Cailan watched Tesslyn walk away with her mabari.

"Arl Howe killed her family?" he echoed, watching beside Cailan.

"Hm? Yes. Duncan was there. He said it was an ambush. Howe's men were delayed until after her brother Fergus left with the whole of the Highever army. The attack was in the middle of the night."

"Maker…" Alistair muttered.

"Yes, she may have a bottle. Only her." Cailan vanished into his gigantic royal tent and reappeared with a bottle of clear dark liquid. "Maple brandy," he said.

"How much?" Alistair accepted the bottle.

"It's for her. She's of noble blood, practically royalty. For her, it's free."

"Thanks for rubbing that in," Alistair said wryly.

Cailan actually laughed. "Share the bottle with her, Alistair! Where are your spirits?"

"Always so funny, Your Majesty." He gave a lazy bow to Cailan then spun on his heels to fetch Tesslyn and her dog.

Tesslyn had disappeared, though; this was obviously her forte. Much of the old fortress was blackened with night shadows, too. This was going to be a fun hunt. He turned left near a bonfire the king's men had set up, and he scanned the dark.

It was a short walk before he found her. He actually thought he was looking at a painting at first. Silhouettes of a slender person sitting next to a dog, the bluish sky blackened beyond the figures, the full moon shining upon them, and nothing else but blackness around them. The only clue that what he was seeing wasn't still art was that twice as he watched, the human figure scooted closer to the edge, and the twice the dog imitated the motion the same as she. Loyal mabari, even to death.

"I wonder," Alistair said, walking up to her and her dog, "does he understand if he follows you off, he'll be dead, too?" He sat down on the other side of her, forcing himself to ignore the sense of dread that instantly loomed over him. He was terrified of heights, yet here he was, his feet dangling over a broken ledge with nothing but air between him and the ground so very far away.

"Please leave me."

"That's not happening. I shouldn't have left you a moment ago." He held up the bottle so she could see it, and he placed it on her lap. She caught it before it had the chance to slide down her legs. "A gift from the King. Maple brandy, he says it is."

"He's a pompous numbskull."

Alistair laughed. "I do agree." He paused. " _Why_ do you want to jump?"

"It's not your life. It's no concern of yours."

"You're my charge," he reminded her.

"You're not responsible for my death, only my life."

"That is…morbid." He took a deep breath and sighed. "King Cailan said Arl Howe killed your family?" he sought validation.

She stared ahead at nothing, and he could feel the somber aire she was radiating grow stronger. "Po woke us up. He wouldn't stop growling at the door. We were still naked."

He studied her as she spoke. She looked like those incoherent from trauma, like soldiers who come back wounded after seeing Darkspawn for the first time, or having to put a friend out of his misery. Like someone lost and doubting reality.

"Dairren opened the door to see what was wrong, and…they shot him. Right in his heart…" She swayed a bit. "Po gave me just enough time to grab a dagger. I barely had enough time to put on my small-clothes before two more men came in. Mother said father was missing. Before we left the manor to find him, we checked on my brother's wife and son. Oriana was first-term expecting and …Oren was only six." Her bottom lip quavered and her eyes sparkled with tears in the moonlight. "I'd promised to teach him to fight while my brother was gone…" She took a shaky breath and her hands fumbled at the head of the bottle.

Alistair silently took the bottle from her and yanked the cork out, and then placed it back in her trembling hands.

"Thank you." The bottle shook with her hands as she brought it to her lip. Then she let out a sob that sent a pin through Alistair's heart. "Duncan made me leave!" She didn't bother hiding her sadness anymore. "I wanted to stay! He wouldn't help me take Father with us! I _don't_ want to _be_ here!" she choked out her cry.

"Would it really have been better to stay behind and die?" he asked, his heart disquieted for her pain.

"Better to die than live with the memories of seeing everyone I loved slaughtered!" she wept and sniffed and took another drink, then wiped a stray dribble from the corner of her mouth. "Do you believe in the Maker?"

"I do."

"Do you think He allows these things to happen as punishment? Is this what killers deserve?"

"Do you mean, do I think the Maker would let innocent people die to punish _one_ person?" He had a feeling where she was going with her question, considering she was an assassin. "No, I don't. But I think He can use your clever evasion of death to your advantage."

"Evasion?" She looked at him.

He shrugged. "Perhaps He made it so you were _able_ to evade. I believe so, anyway. I mean, look what you did to the Darkspawn. I personally believe you are impossible to kill. I believe killing is man's choice, not the Maker's. But if you've grown above man's choices, why wouldn't the Maker use your cleverness?"

"For what?"

"Well…" he stalled, not a clue despite how to answer though he wanted to be supportive. "You're a Grey Warden now. Maybe you survived so you could….save the world? Maybe you're supposed to survive long enough to do something spectacular?" he threw out ideas.

"Then wouldn't He take my pain away if He wanted me to do something great?"

Alistair cocked his head while he thought about this. "If you weren't able to mourn, though, would it really make you strong enough to _do_ something great?" He looked at her.

She hesitated, and her eyes drifted away pensively. "But is it really worth allowing an innocent child to be butchered for? My unarmed father? My mother? My nan and all the servants?…Ser Gilmore?" she whispered. "The only people I care for…"

"I honestly don't know the Maker's intentions," he told her, shaking his head. He was quiet for a moment. "Do you prefer I call you Tesslyn, or My Lady?" he asked.

She frowned deeply, though in pain, not anger. "Why do you want to be my friend so?" Alistair had never spoken with a person so broken inside.

"Why shouldn't we be? We're both Grey Wardens, we're in the same unit, and Grey Wardens aren't very social outside of each other. The Taint is…it makes it difficult to have a normal life. I mean, we eat and drink and gossip, you know, and all that, but to each other."

"Wonderful." She took another drink.

"So." He watched her. "Tesslyn, then?"

"I suppose." She took another drink.

"Do you still want to jump?"

"Yes."

He peeked over the edge. "How long do you think it will take us till we hit those rocks down there?"

"We?" she echoed in disbelief.

"You, me and it seems your mabari will go, too." He dared to peer over again.

"Why would you jump to your death with a stranger?"

"I can't exactly go back to Duncan and say I let my only surviving charge plummet to her death, can I?" He frowned. "It's a _long_ way down. Probably long enough to ponder _why_ we jumped in the first place, and _how much longer till it's over?"_

"Are you trying to scare me?"

"No, I'm just thinking out loud," he spoke genuinely. "I honestly think you would have jumped by now if you were serious."

He looked at her when she didn't respond. She had stopped crying though her cheeks still reflected wet silver. She stared at him.

"I have been praying so hard lately."

"What have you been praying for?" he asked her.

"For my life to mean more than what it is. For my home life to mean more than waking up every day just to curtsy and follow practice. To do something _good_. To right my wrongs. To be able to have a life I can look back on when I'm old and gray and be _proud_ of."

Alistair only searched her eyes for a moment. "So let's make it, Grey Warden Tesslyn."

He could physically feel an aura of hopefulness settle in around them. " _How?"_ she whispered.

"For starters, let's sit back a bit. I'm a little afraid of heights. _Don't tell_ anyone, that's a huge secret," he tried to make her smile; ineffective. "Secondly, let's finish that bottle. Is it any good? I half expect Cailan's drink to be made of petunias, or…sunshine, or something. Rainbows, maybe."

This brought a smile from her; rather, the corners of her mouth turned up so slightly.

"I'm glad someone agrees with me," he laughed softly. He sat back until he was about his own height away from the edge. "Come on. I know a good, empty spot where you can still see the moons but _not_ the ground _._ " He held his hands down to her.

She tarried only a moment. Then she scooted backwards until she could securely rest her feet, and when she held out her hands Alistair pulled her up. Her eyes flickered to his, then she looked at the bottle as she put in his hands. "It tastes like maple sugar gone bad."

He laughed a little. "So we're getting drunk on riddled cake syrup? Do you feel anything yet?"

She paused. "I feel like he's going to receive an empty bottle in the morning."

He laughed again. "We'd best get started, then." He looked at both eyes for a moment. He had known there was a lighter presence inside her. He did like this girl, and she seemed to need a quality he possessed; a significant first, in his life. "So, before we take another step, could we maybe start over?" he suggested.

"Start over?" she repeated.

"Yes. Er, _hello_ , nice to meet you, I'm Alistair," he told her.

She searched his eyes rather deeply. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Alistair," she said softly. Her eyes darted as she hesitated, then met his again. "My family calls me Tess."

He smiled just for her. "I am thrilled to meet you, Tess. Now, let's get as drunk as we can off this girlish rainbow juice!"

He'd let her drink most of it. Right now, she was asleep, her mabari curled up around her head as a sort of pillow. Alistair himself propped up against storage bags of dried elfroot; he could smell it through the burlap. Now, he simply watched her sleep.

She still hadn't smiled much, but she'd indulged him in a couple tales. She was indeed an assassin, for noble families with the Empress of Orlais as one of her more trusted clients, though she added she'd tried to retire before Duncan recruited her. She liked to travel, alone, but she hated not being able to take hot baths. She loved to read and she loved water, and the minstrels of Orlais played her favorite music. Alistair had shared a few of his own stories, like how he had been so bored in the Chantry as a boy he'd scream just to stir things up and see the Brothers or fully-armored Templars come running. He'd told her he fancied runes - the more mysterious the better, and of his fascination over the tiny stones as conduits of magic, how he'd lost his collection when he'd been conscripted into the Grey Wardens. He'd told her how much he loved fine cheese and one day he would go to Orlais to sample their best selection.

But now, she slept. She was at peace for the moment. It was quite a different perspective to see her in. The woman he'd met in daylight had been far from at peace with anything in her life apart from killing and death. He had never met someone who'd wanted to end their life, before. He was surprised at his ability to talk her out of such desire. He was even more surprised to find a friend in the one the place he did not expect it.


	4. The Best Last Day

"Alistair," a familiar voice said as something jolted his foot. Alistair cracked open one eye. It was Duncan, and the sky past the overlook was grayish-blue. A hint of gold blared off in the distance. "Come up, boy." Duncan grabbed his arms and hoisted Alistair to his feet.

Alistair yawned and braced the column for support. He groaned as he forced his eyes to adjust to the early morning light. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. You wanted me to see the damage she did? We should get to it before the day requires duties."

Alistair rubbed his eyes, then looked down at Tesslyn. She was curled up around her dog like a half-circle. The mabari looked up at Alistair and cocked his head. "Stay, boy," he muttered sleepily to the dog. "Don't wake her. I'll be back soon." This seemed to satisfy the hound, for he returned his head to his paws.

Alistair followed Duncan, still half in a daze, back to their proper camp area. They armed themselves, and Alistair swallowed half a skin of mead to hurry along his waking.

"So after spending all night with her what do you think of Tesslyn now?" Duncan asked as the gates closed behind them.

The land around them was still, save for a few birds twittering from tree to tree. It felt too quiet, and far too early for someone to ask if he had had a girl. "I didn't… _have_ her," Alistair said defensively.

"I know, Alistair. I saw you, for a time. I just wonder what your opinion is now after you've convinced her you're hers?"

"What? I didn't – I didn't say I was hers. Did I? Was I drunker than I thought?" He honestly wondered.

Duncan softly laughed. "You did tell you would help her make her life meaningful."

"I was talking about as a Grey Warden. I – you were that close? You were _spying_ on us?" he laughed.

"I was concerned, that's all. I wanted to be nearby just in case she tried to jump," he said. "On that note, well done, Alistair."

He glanced at the old man again.

"You did a mighty thing with her. You faced your brother, even, to help her."

"And then I helped drink his rainbow-flavored brandy," Alistair said. "He actually told me to bring her to his tent. Can you believe that? He's a slob. A slob who likes flower drinks."

Duncan laughed. "She doesn't think too much of him, either. She called him a fool when he met us at the gates. As I recall, she said _she doesn't trust a fool who's proud his armor reflects the sun._ "

Alistair grinned. "She can be quite amusing. Actually, even when she was cold, she was funny. You were right. I just needed patience." They came upon the wolves Alistair and the recruits encountered the eve prior. Alistair pointed east toward the time-worn tower. "She did these wolves, but the scary, impressive Darkspawn kills are over there." He and Duncan walked down the hill and turned toward the rising sun. "I think I'm good for her. And likewise. I think I can trust her. She doesn't seem to give two figs about me other than my sitting with her last night…which may prove helpful if she ever finds out about me. She seems to need a friend."

"A friend who trusts you in her darkest hour can mean a potent bond, Alistair. I considered sending her off to Stroud in the Free Marches after the battle, but seeing how you handled her last night, she will remain your charge."

"I appreciate that. She is sort of growing on me, I guess. There's something…something…about her. I don't know what. I think she's hiding a lot more stuff. I'm pretty sure there's more to her than the assassin thing. But there is something she has that most people here don't. Aside from really strong emotions. I'm not sure anyone can top her on that, actually. She is intense. I literally felt her hope when she changed her mind. It was nice to know I can do some good in this world. Good to know I don't annoy the living daylights out of everyone I meet."

"As long as you hold the wedding before my Calling, I'll remain supportive."

Alistair laughed while Duncan smirked. "Right! Every man wants to marry a ruthless assassin. Wait, _Daveth_ did, actually. Daveth proposed to her." This made Duncan laugh. "I wonder what Cailan would think if I married her?"Alistair grinned in spite.

"No matter how much pleasure it will give you to hold something out of your brother's reach, marrying an assassin out of _spite_ isn't something I advise," chuckled his senior. Despite such talk, Alistair was joking. He hoped Duncan was joking, too.

A strong whiff of early decay caught them as the breeze changed. "Ugh. We are definitely close." Alistair didn't need to see bodies to be confident. Darkspawn rot smelled different than untainted rot. It had none of the rancid-sweet scents that healthy flesh had, as unappetizing as it sounded in his head. It didn't take as long to climb up the hill as Alistair remembered. "Oh, and look. Still untouched. Not even maggots like them. You don't suppose that's an insult to Darkspawn, do you?"

Duncan looked around without speaking.

"See?" Alistair said after he turned on halfway over with his boot. "She stuck it twice -" he demonstrated in the air what Tesslyn had done, "like she'd carved a hundred that way already."

"Did she do this?" Duncan stood over the one cut in two.

"Of course. She nearly got Daveth, too. He had to jump clear back. And look! This one hit her in the face. She was like a hurricane on it, then she shoved her dagger in its mouth and kicked it through. This one started her massacre, actually." He looked around and spotted something far too clever to belong to Darkspawn. "Her bow!" He picked up the clever puzzle-bow, wondering if she even knew she had forgotten it. So much had happened so quickly yesterday. "I don't know anyone who can kill like she does."

"It is curious, isn't it?" Duncan said. "And effective. Let's hope the Darkspawn get the message."

"Yes! I've got an irritated depressed assassin at my call! Beware, Messere Archdemon!" Alistair gave a pretense evil laugh, and Duncan's mouth stretched.

"Whatever your brother gave you obviously wasn't strong enough."

Alistair grinned. "It wasn't bad, really," he admitted. "I let her have most of it. She needed the break from her thoughts." He was unsure about the look Duncan gave him, though.

"I'm not by any means trying to discourage you, Alistair," he told the lad. "But don't rush yourself with her. Take your time with this."

"I…what are you talking about? Are you still on about marriage, Duncan?"

"I truly hope marriage isn't the first thing to come to your mind already when you think of her." He started to leave, and Alistair followed.

"It's not. I'm…I admit I'm a _bit_ infatuated, _sure_ , but mostly with her skills. I have never even _heard_ of a woman like her before. But I honestly hadn't considered… _romance_ yet." Was he really having this talk? With the closest thing he'd ever had to a father?

"She is a woman, Alistair. Women are pure emotion -"

"I do agree with that," he interrupted with a nod.

Duncan continued, "- and if you keep coming to the rescue when she's compromised, talking to her as you have been, she will fall in love with you. I'd rather take my final leave knowing you won't do anything rash as soon as I'm gone." He paused and turned to Alistair. "The Chantry _did_ teach you where babies come from, I hope?"

"Duncan!" he laughed, embarrassed.

 _"Alistair_."

"Yes. Yes, they did. Actually, I learned that shortly after I started my Templar studies. They tried to scare us all into never touching the mages. But considering how many babies are not-so-secretly born in the Circle, you can tell how well _that_ worked."

"And just where do babies come from, Alistair?" he tested.

Alistair sighed and rolled his eyes. "When a Mommy Grey Warden and a Daddy Grey Warden decide they'll love each other until the next Blight, a giant griffon shimmering with the blessings of the Maker descends from the heavens, carrying a new baby Grey Warden swaddled in robes stitched of victory, vigilance, and sacrifice," he entertained Duncan.

Duncan paused. "I sincerely hope you don't believe that but I admit it's very clever and I will consider adding it to the Order's archives."

Alistair laughed. "Duncan, are we really having this conversation?"

"Just a precaution, Alistair. You're both fresh enough into the order, you may soon sprout little ones if you move too fast." They walked down the hill where Tesslyn had used Alistair and the men as bait. "Do not take off your clothes for her, Alistair. Not for a year."

"Sweet Andraste!" he muttered with a mortified laugh. He could feel his cheeks burning.

"Somebody has to warn you, Alistair, since your father never got to."

"Apparently he never told Cailan, either. Unlike Cailan, _I_ grew up in the Chantry. They keep everyone's small-clothes on with a lock and key, and tell you if you so much as reach down there to scratch, the Maker will strike you down with lightning. I _know_ how babies are made. I'm not trying to make any."

"Good. I'm glad we had this talk."

Alistair choked on a laugh. "Right. Yes. Thank you." The rest of the walk back was performed in awkward silence.

Tesslyn and her hound were standing at the bonfire near the tents neither of them made it to last night. The moment she caught his gaze, Alistair felt his cheeks and ears flush in embarrassment. She looked at him, then Duncan, then Alistair again and thrust a green-tinted bottle at his chest. "Er…good morning," he told her.

"You raided the stocks already, have you?" Duncan smiled.

"No, I snuck into Cailan's tent. That's cherry rum, this is blackberry wine. You were right about him being fruity," she said, her eyes on Alistair.

Alistair huffed, bewildered and amused. "You snuck into the king's tent to steal his drink?"

"Of course not! I woke him up and asked him!…if a bit…aggressively."

"Was that smart?" Duncan looked guilty for finding humor in it all.

"My family has always been involved with Cailan's. We always had dinner in Denerim for Maric's birthday, until he died, anyway. Cailan's just a push-over. Family never gets away without sharing." She paused.

"Family?" Alistair reiterated.

"Rowan was my mother's cousin," she quickly explained, "so Cailan is my second cousin. My point is, we're family, it's alright for me to boss him around…and I _did_ say _please_."

"Is he going to come after _me_ for this?" Alistair asked.

"He can't even protect his own tent from invasion. How is he going to figure out how to go after someone?"

"Please try to keep all royal agitations to a minimum, Tesslyn?" Duncan requested.

"I promise nothing. The boy irks me." She gasped and snatched her bow from Alistair.

"Oh, yes. It was still out there. I thought you might miss it after…I don't know, the King annoys you again," Alistair joked.

"Thank you." She ran her fingers along the locked-in puzzle of wood. "I can't believe I forgot it…"

"Yesterday was a busy day," he recalled.

"Is there somewhere I can hunt?" She asked.

"There is no need. We have cooks. Some of the Wardens enjoy cooking for us all," Duncan told her.

"I do my own cooking." She paused. "I'm not trying to be rude, but I've grown used to assuming someone will try to poison me in return one day."

"I doubt any Warden here is that good with poison," Alistair guessed.

"There is _now_."

"I'll try not to annoy you anymore, then," he laughed a little.

"Try _not_ to poison anyone." Duncan smirked.

"All right, yes! Let's go hunting. I know where to find some birds." Alistair agreed enthusiastically.

"Alistair -" Duncan began.

"Could _you_ say no to a woman who chops Darkspawn in half?" He couldn't hide his amusement.

"Very well," Duncan sighed. "Don't let Alistair get lost, and don't take too long. We go to battle tonight."

Both of them watched Duncan walk out of earshot before looking at each other again. "How are you feeling?" Alistair asked her.

"How are _you_ feeling? You look like a cooked crab."

He laughed, a little shy again. "It's nothing. He was teasing me, is all." He ducked his head in another laugh. "Maker! Am I that red? Ah," he sighed. He rubbed his face, then dared to meet her eyes.

"It makes your freckles and your hair stand out more. Sort of makes your eyes look like hot coals, too."

"So it's _obvious_ I'm a flaming mess? Lovely." He chuckled though. Alistair opened the bottle and took a drink, excessive strength and sweetness pinching his face. "What about you?"

"I'm…different."

"Different?" he echoed.

Clear green eyes darted. "Not…not any less hurt, but…I'm not on the edge, anymore." She finally met his gaze as if she, too, had to dare herself.

He knew right then talking her off the ledge last night would keep them joined for quite a while. Inside, he sighed. _Duncan pretty much said the same thing out in the Wilds a bit ago, hadn't he?_ _Something about last night bonding them._ Alistair supposed this was his team, then; just him and her.

"Last night you weren't hungry. How hungry are you now?" He changed the subject.

"I am _famished_! I'm so hungry I can't see straight! Are all of you hungry?" she didn't miss a beat.

He laughed. "Absolutely! We're all starving! I'm afraid I'm not too good with a bow, I prefer to smash things with my shield. But I can show you where to hunt. I'll even help you clean it."

"That sounds perfect." She winced a little.

She told her mabari to stay, then she allowed Alistair to lead her to the bridge. But they almost walked right into Teyrn Loghain and King Cailan. Tesslyn immediately frowned at Loghain.

 _"Why_ is _he_ here?" she demanded of Cailan, pointing at the Teyrn.

"He's my general," Cailan informed her, looking quizzed.

"Mind how you speak to your King, girl," Loghain ordered her.

Alistair did not like Loghain's reaction to Tesslyn. Pupils around silvery blue eyes widened at Tesslyn. She riled something within the Teyrn.

"He was my cousin before he ever became king, _Ser Career Underling. Why_ are you _here?_ Worried the clumsy king will slip up, step on his shadow?" She snarled at Loghain. "Or are you here for _me?_ It's been almost eight years, Loghain. Does your bed miss me? Or have you gotten a new bed?"

Alistair and Cailan shared a glance of wide-eyed intrigue.

"You two, er, have some catching up to do, I take it?" Cailan asked.

"She is an _assassin_ , Your Majesty. It's her _job_ to employ deceit," Loghain spoke cool and calm, eyes narrowed in the disguise of suspicion. Alistair spent his life reading body language and eyes; trying to survive childhood. _He_ recognized the signs of Loghain's adrenaline spiking, pupils widening and a twitch of his eyes. But by all other appearances, Loghain was a general trying to protect his king. The man was clever. Alistair did not care for for the Teyrn so much anymore.

"You know all about my employ, don't you?" Tesslyn never blinked as she stared back.

"How do _you_ know she's an assassin unless you've hired her? Isn't that sort of job _need-to-know?"_ Alistair challenged.

"Must we all argue on the eve of battle?" Cailan asked the three of them.

"It's _not 'eve'_ , Cailan, it's the bloody morning!" Tesslyn snapped, clearly thinking herself better than him. "If you don't want conflict, maybe you shouldn't entrust your troops to a self-ambitious pig! Did he ever tell you why Anora was suddenly the only available noble when your father died? Especially when _I_ was a better physical match for a king!" She gave a quick gesture to her own face and body. "Do _not_ trust him, Cailan! He will _betray_ you just as he betrayed Maric! _And_ me!"

"What are you -"

She cut Cailan off with by slapping his face.

"Hey!" the King cried out.

"That is for willful ignorance! Your father would be ashamed!" In a blink, she turned to Loghain and punched him square in the face. "And if I even glimpse of you again, I will cut off your head and you can _suck_ your _own_ wanker for once!" She pushed past the king and his general before either had time to react. Alistair hurried after her to evade punishment.

"Jory was right. You _do_ have the mouth of a pirate. Did that really happen?" he asked.

"Loghain is a tart."

"No, I mean – a tiny woman just slapped the King and punched his general, and she was allowed to just...walk away!" He laughed, partly in humor, partly in amazement, and in part fear of what might happen to _him_ for allowing it. She looked at him sheepishly, but the corner of her mouth stretched. "I wish I had a painting of that!" He glanced back; Cailan and Loghain were walking away. It was a miracle no guards came after the two Wardens. "I'm not going to ask about the _bed_ thing, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry. He's always rubbed me the wrong way, even though he commands his army well. But what did you mean about Anora was the only one available?"

She closed her eyes as she craned her neck a bit, her jaw just as tense.

"If it's that bad to recall -"

"No, it's…" she sighed. "Loghain had me get rid of all the other girls. One of them, I shared a birthday with. We had matching dresses every holiday," she said with a grimace.

"Why? _Why_ would you do it?"

"I was fourteen. I wasn't exactly _smart_. He _promised_ me I wouldn't have to marry Cailan. Cailan is just...I can't get over his... _everything._ His lack of appreciation for literature, his inability to think when a pair of breasts enters his line of sight. I'm _sure_ he stared at my _ass_ just now; he _does_ that."

He laughed. "The one noble pirate in all Fereldan. You're how old?"

"Twenty-three."

"Twenty-three and not married, with a gem of a mouth like that?" He teased. Then he remembered their talk last night. "Oh, wait. Was that Darren – no, Dairren. Was he your husband?" He sighed, disappointed with himself. "I'm sorry. I ruined the moment."

She hesitated, a cock of her head tense and choppy. "N-no. Dairren wasn't my husband…"

"I'm so sorry," he gushed. "What are you hungry for?" he changed the subject.

"Griffon. But apparently our ancient Grey Warden ancestors _ate_ all those."

He giggled. "What do you suppose those taste like?"

"Like a really muscular turkey who can run really, really fast and also roar. Like a turkey-lion. A turkey-cat…?"

He grinned. "A tat? Or a cakey." She let slip a giggle, but clamped a hand over her mouth. Alistair laughed.

"Stop it!" she scolded. "Ladies aren't supposed to giggle at ridiculousness!"

"Maybe," he teased, "but Grey Wardens can. _I_ giggle. _Y_ _our_ ridiculousness makes me giggle, in fact." She shot him a sideways glare, and his grin stretched with another giggle.

"They're _giant_ turkey-cats, yes?" she verified after a pause. "So it'd be a 'girkat.'" she pronounced it _jerk it._

He laughed again. "Giturts?"

She failed to hide her smile. "Turts," she echoed. Both of them a mess of giggles, Alistair glanced back to make sure no one spied his girlish sounds.

"What do you suppose you and I could end this Blight with our manly giggles?" He joked.

"This Archdemon doesn't stand a change against you." She stopped walking and lost her smile.

"What's wrong?" He searched her face, stopping his feet to wait for her.

She met his eyes. "I just… _thank_ you."

Alistair knew what she meant. Laughter, being carefree, _companionship_ despite the odds. He watched her for a moment. "You're welcome. I'm glad to have you."

She nodded unevenly. "I'm getting delirious." She walked again. "I just used the T-word."

He laughed. "How dreadful! Shame on me for taking advantage of a Lady in dire hunger!" he played.

"If you don't watch it, I'll stab you." She tried not to smile.

"In the back, right? Isn't that how assassins do it?"

"You mean, do we do it from behind? No, not touching that with you yet."

 _"Oh-ho-ho!"_ He was a little embarrassed she'd turned his flirt around on him.

"I won't even bother sneaking up on you. I'll do it while you're drinking or something."

"Ah! Good old poison?" His grin stretced.

 _"No!_ That's a _pathetic_ death for the man who slays Archdemons with giggles!"

"I quite agree!" he giggled again.

She looked up at him as he led her farther out of the compound. "I don't know if this means much to you, but I like you better than Cailan."

 _Could she know?_

 _No, she couldn't. No one knew, and she was way too young to remember, right?_

"Considering you have no fear of slapping him _while_ he's the king, I think I appreciate that." Alistair stopped to scope the landscape and the sun. He pointed to a patch of fog still hovering by the yellow apple trees at the edge of the forest. "Turkeys should still be out. No, wait." He looked down at her. "Turts."

She pursed her lips in an attempt not to smile and walked swiftly past him. He chuckled and caught up to her. When she halted again, he turned full about to see her watching the sunrise.

"Do you ever have moments like this?" she asked.

"Like what?"

"Death and fire and broken hearts, little bodies. Chaos. What seems like proof that the Maker indeed left. And then there are places like this – green, flowers, songs in the wind…laughter. The sun giving life to everything…making it seem like maybe _this_ is where the Maker lives? He never left, he's just… _here_." She stood there in the sunrise, reflecting the orange glow like a living statue of gold.

"I've never quite thought of it that way," he admitted.

"I wish I wasn't born a noble," she said. "I'd much rather spend my life as a bird, or even a tree. No drama, no lies, no worries."

"You might not appreciate that view if you'd always been a bird, though, or a tree." He stood next to her. "It is beautiful though, isn't it?"

"It's hard to believe the Taint has killed most of this mere paces away."

"For what it's worth, I think you'd make a lovely tree." He tried to cheer her up again. She looked up at him in doubt. "Can you _sing_ well enough to be a bird? I rather see you _bashing_ people with your _huge tree claws_." She rolled her eyes and walked on, and he followed her with a laugh. "Stomping them, too. That would be a sight. Don't you agree?"

"And what? You'll be the fluffy little bunny that burrows under my roots?" she suggested.

" _With_ an extra fluffy tail, mind you," he joked. She settled for a smirk. Alistair nudged her with his elbow. "I _like_ it when you smile. You really should do it more often," he requested.

"I think I used to."

"You think?"

"My brother can make me laugh."

"Fergus, right? I met him, before he headed out. He seems like a good man. Oh! Look!" He stopped her and pointed. "Turkeys!" he whispered. A pack silhouetted between fog and sunlight a few trees in.

She sighed. "The Maker must hear my stomach!"

"That's a lot of turkeys to answer with. Maybe he _does_ live here? Maybe we should be whispering, then. And I don't think it's safe to ask for any more griffons when He gives you a _dozen_ turkeys instead of only one. If we're not careful, we'll be responsible for a sudden griffon infestation. I don't think we have a remedy for that these days," he whispered enthusiastically. She laughed with no noise and shaking shoulders, and he giggled with her.

He followed her to a shaded, crooked niche in a cluster of trees. She dug in one of her belt sacks and pulled out two sticks. "How hungry are the three of you?"

He crouched at her side with a grin. "The three of us are famished!" he whispered back. She flipped the ends of the two sticks together so they made a single long one, and it snapped into place. She pulled on the sharp end and a slim stick came out, revealing feathers on the opposite end. It was arrow. "Do you make _everything?"_ he asked, taking it without asking like an over-curious child. He turned it in his hands. More like a dart, very sharp at the tip. The feathers were narrow and black, and they shimmered with deep purple and green in even faint light.

"Yes, I do make everything. You have successfully discovered my true identity. I am the Maker," she breathed.

He grinned at the first thing that came to his mind. "So you have a _Bride?_ I _thought_ you were a little too interested in that sneaky Morrigan witch. Does she look like Andraste?" he teased. He absolutely loved her banter. He'd wished she'd been like this yesterday.

She snatched her arrow back with a glare that didn't conceal her amusement. "If ever I had any doubt you were really a man, this moment completely diminished it."

"You were awfully interested in her. And also nice to her."

"Are you asking to watch me kiss a woman sometime?" She readied the arrow but didn't challenge the string.

"Oh, boy!" he laughed softly. "Let's not – all right. I grew up in the Chantry, okay?"

She grinned. "I know. Chantry boys are pretty obvious."

"Are _all_ women this evil?" He grinned, though.

"Only the ones who didn't grow up in the Chantry."

Her head twitched when she tried to aim, causing her to pass a slight wince with closed eyes. Alistair lost his smile. Something else was wrong with her. She had been twitching more often. She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, clear to him she was wary of his reaction, but Alistair didn't question her yet. Maybe hunger? He wanted to think it was something simple.

She took a deep breath and aimed again. She didn't shoot though. Her eyes almost did not shift. Alistair looked over to see why she stalled. The turkeys still there, oblivious to the Wardens as far as Alistair could tell.

WIld game goose-stepping around each other reminded Alistair of Cailan and Loghain, which reminded him of Tesslyn's reaction to them both. The giggle escaped before he could muffle himself. " _It's not eve,_ she tells him, _i_ _t's the bloody morning!"_ he hissed. He hung his head between his knees and pressed his arm to his mouth to try to quell his giggling. Suppressing it only made his shoulders shake though.

 _"Oh, balls!_ " Tesslyn muttered. Alistair bit down on his lips and peeked at her. She was laughing too. She clamped her hand over her mouth and completely turned away from him, as if the sight of him in such a childish fit distracted her, but this only made him laugh deeper.

There they sat, two mighty Grey Wardens, both very dangerous in their own ways, both consumed by a paralyzing tuft of girlish laughter.

It took a good while for both of them to calm down. He tried breathing with his head between his knees, like he'd learned from the Templars to ease panic attacks. Tess leaned back against the tree, filling breaths occasionally interrupted by another giggle.

"And to think, I'm not even drunk," he giggled again.

"If you don't stop it, I'm going to eat you for breakfast."

He winced with a harder laugh. "Ohhh! My mind went somewhere horrible!" he groaned out another giggle, hiding his face in his arm when his collar proved too small.

"Duncan!" she gasped. "I need a new mentor! These three are starving me!"

"Just shoot the damn bird!" he laughed. He sat up with a heavy exhale, but only laughed at the sight of her flushed and spent from titters.

"Ow!" she winced, grabbing her side, still giggling. She tried to breathe again. "Damn you, Chantry boy!" she whispered.

"No matter what you say, we're not giving you up. You are _our_ charge," he teased, surprised he could speak so clear.

"The three of you are rotten." She met his eyes. Through their grinning and waning giggles, Alistair felt his chest swell a little. He couldn't remember the last time he laughed this hard with someone, not like this anyway. This pretty thing with emeralds for eyes had a tongue as sharp as daggers, a wit to match his own and a smile that made everything around him perfect.

 _Maker…_ Duncan had been right to suspect his attachment.

Tess stared back at him as her chest fell back into a rhythmic rise and fall. Her head twitched again, along with her elbows. She closed her eyes with a crease of her brow and looked ashamed. Her head turned toward the fowl, who patiently waited for her to strike.

Just like that, the fun was over. "What is that?" he asked quietly, searching her face. She shook her head. She sat up and opened her eyes.

Tess sat up and opened her eyes. "It's n-nothing." She took another deep breath and readied her clever bow and matching arrow again. Alistair watched her stare down her arrow; it flew from her with a muffled twang as her first two fingers opened behind her ear. He didn't need to follow the arrow to know it struck a turkey.

She glanced at him as she stood. "I don't want to talk about it," shame rang through her voice.

"I know you don't." He stood, and towered her by about a head. Alistair was very aware of their proximity. He could feel the limits of her breath at his collar. It tingled his skin. _Dammit, Duncan was right._ "But I am here anyway, for whenever you decide you do want to talk about it."

"Ser, you starting to become an evil."

"But a _cute_ evil," he flirted, nodding.

"Maker, help me!" she breathed, stepping over exposed roots to get away from him. He chuckled, hopping over the wooden knots tangled around him.

"I thought you said you _are_ the Maker?" he teased.

"Sometimes I talk to myself. It's a therapeutic habit."

He laughed. "Have I told you, yet, how you're the only one keeps up with my jokes?"

"I'm the Maker, remember? I know how to respond to you."

"Right!" he giggled. "Because you made me, of course!" He grinned. "Hey! Nice shot!" he said as the stepped up to her kill. He crouched at the dead bird. Right through the neck. He glanced at her as she bent over. She gave a jerk on the arrow and a gush of blood bubbled out behind it.

"Have you ever cleaned a bird?"

"Says the Noble Lady to the Grey Warden," he played, picking up the dead fowl by a foot as he stood.

"Oh-ho-ho!" she laughed on purpose, though the smile reached her eyes. He grinned again.

"I _have_ , actually. I don't like to let it on very often, but I happen to be quite adept at surviving outside." Part of him wanted to tell her how he'd learned to make do with what he had around him as a kid in the Redcliffe stables.

She started to speak, but apparently thought better of it and closed her mouth.

He cocked his head at her, curious. "And what were you about to say?" he prompted.

She shook her head. "Something derogatory toward Orleasians. Toward _one_ Orleasian." This was even more peculiar. Isolde was from Orlais; she was the one who had insisted he sleep in the stables, and as the Arl's wife, she was obeyed.

"Either you know something I haven't told you yet, or you really are the Maker and you can read my mind."

"You turned my comment about starving into something a wee bit sexual, back there. I'm not sure I want to be able to read your mind."

He laughed softly, a little embarrassed again. "All right, you win this round."

She giggled. "Oh, good. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he giggled back. "But don't expect this victory to last long. I'll regain my honor soon enough, you'll see." She turned her head away in a laugh.

They cleaned the bird together, with the morning sun warming them from the side. Plucking the feathers was most time-consuming with the both of them doing this, but also fun. Every time either one of them gave a decent tug on a handful of feathers, the whole turkey slid away from the other. It turned into a game that didn't allow them to accomplish a thing except smear blood all over the grass. Their meaningless game abruptly stopped when he brushed the tip of a feather under her nose. She pushed him, toppling him backwards in a roll, and then she sneezed six times.

"I'm sorry!" he laughed, regaining his balance.

She gave a funny snort that reminded him of a cat about to sneeze, and her head shook with a clench of her eyes. "Sure you are." She did the funny cat-sneeze again, and he giggled harder.

"All right! All right! I'll stop!" he said. "I suppose it's best. This turt won't skin itself."

"You never know. There's plenty of magic near-by." She wiggled her nose again, and he couldn't help but laugh at how adorable she was when she did that.

She used her other dagger to slice down what was left of the neck, and she gave a tug to loosen the bones.

"How old were you when you discovered you like to stab things?" he asked.

She stuck her arm inside heck hole, a crooked smile on her face. "Eleven, I think. Maybe ten? I just remember begging my father to let me train with the army. I don't recall ever stabbing anything until I was twelve."

"So, your father didn't want you to become a soldier, but he thought _assassin_ was a better career for his _daughter_?" he teased.

Her grin full stretched. Her arm twisted inside the bird. "He said if I _absolutely_ had to train, then it would be close-range, for defense. Actually, my brother convinced him of that. And what is the best sort of close-range training?"

"Rogues. Assassins."

"Here, I have something for you." She pulled her hand out and closed her fist. She kept a straight face, and took his hand. "This is very delicate. I don't trust anyone else with it. Keep it safe. Please don't break it." A slimy thing dropped into his hand, and she released him.

It was the bird's heart. _A heart._ Alistair laughed. "Don't break your heart. Got it." He met her eyes, and held the heart up by the torn tubes. "It's a little small, isn't it?"

"I never said it was friendly, or a compassionate heart." She smirked. "It's been a little neglected."

" _Oh_ , this is _true_ symbolism we're talking about then," he smiled wider.

She fought a grin, a smirk pursing her mouth to the side. "If you don't want my heart, then give it back."

"No way!" he giggled.

"That's hardly fair, is it?"

"I have a better one for you." He took her arm and balanced the heart on her forearm. She giggled with squinched eyes.

"Heart on my sleeve. Hilarious."

"Yes, you should be more careful who you bear this to. At this rate, everyone will see it just sitting there."

"Learn all this in the Chantry, did you?" Her eyes sparkled above flushed cheeks.

"As a matter of fact, I'm improvising." Alistair looked at the tiny heart in his hand. "I rather enjoy teasing you." He dug his nail into the tough flesh and pressed.

"Did you just – did you just _stab my heart?_ With your _thumb?"_ She played shocked and offended. He grinned with a glance and her.

"Not only a job for assassins anymore," he flirted. _Openly_ flirting now, _Maker help him._

"You are just as dark and frightening as I am."

Still grinning, he said, "I have to be, to stay in step with you. I'm afraid to get ahead of you, because my back will be exposed and I like my spine where it is, thank you -"

Her smile was almost shy.

"- and every time I let _you_ get ahead, you disappear and I can't find you for an hour." He tore the heart apart with his thumbs, curious what it looked like inside. He ripped it completely apart and let it lay in his palm. For such a small heart, the four sections were thick. The granular chambers always reminded him of tiny fish eggs. Thick blood binding flesh about to crumble; all he'd need to do is press.

Tess shifting tore his attention. Alistair realized how strange he must look playing with this fresh heart in his hand. As soon as he looked up, she scoffed, pretending he'd offended again. "You're _crushing_ my heart. In your _hand."_ She met his eyes. "Didn't I specifically ask you _not_ to do that?" If not for the smile threatening the corner of her lips, she'd be a great actress.

"You asked me not to _break_ it, actually." He smirked back. "So what does it feel like? Does it hurt?"

"The Chantry. I blame the _Chantry_ for this sadistic side of you."

He laughed. "Does it?"

"Does _what_ hurt? You stabbing my poor delicate heart in your hand and then _smashing_ it like you're trying to make jelly?"

His grin stretched as far as his lips would go. "Does it hurt to know the man who crushed your heart is still holding it?"

" _Ooooh_!" she breathed, narrowed eyes dancing with laughter that voiced itself a moment later.

He laughed again. "My Lady, you have the _best_ reactions I have ever had the pleasure of antagonizing."

"Er, thank you, I think," she said, her brows and eyes reflecting amusement and concern.

"Let me ask you something. You're a mighty warrior who's not afraid of blood, right?"

She looked up in confusion, glanced down at her bloody hands, then met his eyes.

"Good!" He exclaimed without waiting for her to answer. "Hold still." He leaned over and held her chin between the thumb and forefinger sharing his hand with the heart.

"What are you doing?" She frowned, darting her eyes like it would let her see.

"Just hold still." He smudged the thick blood of the heart on his other forefinger, and put his fingertip to her left cheek. He dabbed the blood to make a single circle, then re-coated his fingertip.

"Are you putting _dots_ on my face?" she asked. Her breath was hot against his wrist.

He giggled. "Only a couple." He drew what resembled two headless stick-people, re-wetting his finger as needed. "I'm replacing your warpaint from yesterday. It will be cute."

"Listen here, _Ser_ -"

Alistair laughed hard.

"Warpaint is not meant to be _cute_. Cute doesn't win wars."

"But giggling does," he teased. He swirled his finger in the bloody heart again, then finished with a tiny triangle for each "head". "There." He released her chin and sat back.

Her eyes strained to try to see it. "What is it?"

"A unicorn dancing under a rainbow," Alistair said. She glared, and he laughed loudly. "It's the Tevinter rune symbol for Spirit. Well, Lightning, actually. But when not used as a weapon source or enhancement, it can translate to Spirit. It's sort of a two-way meaning. Lighting does considerable damage, especially to mana, which is why it's considered a dual-power. It's said the _spirit_ of a mage gives him his mana. Lighting is also debilitating and burns and leaves nasty scars. When it's used for Spirit, it represents the Lighting from the other side, from its starting path. It's determined and strong and reaches its targets with such passion that it brings out the light from _within_ the target. Sometimes it's considered a bringer of light in dark times, though brief. It doesn't take more than a moment of light to let a person know they're about to walk off a cliff, does it?" Alistair paused, realizing he accidentally personalized the tale to Tess.

"Why did you choose this one for me?"

"I think you have a lot of Spirit. You are an unstoppable force in battle. You stand up for things that matter to you, like with that witch-lady. And you have endured so much in the short time I've known you. Yesterday, you couldn't see a friend in any of us, and now this morning, you've laughed quite a bit. You're very brave. I admire you for all these things." Alistair gently turn her face to double-check the rune.

"I couldn't stop myself from trying to jump. That wasn't me." She shoo her head.

"Of course it was. You agreed not to jump when you left the edge with me. You _didn't have_ to agree, but you did anyway." A moment of silence passed, Tess searching for an answer to an unspoken question. Alistair wet his finger in blood again and dragged his finger down the center of her lips and chin. " _Now_ you look ferocious."

"Hm. You wouldn't happen to have a mirror, would you?" Her hand closed over his and squished the bloody mess between their palms.

"I _do,_ actually. I use it to make sure my hair is in order every day. You know, I am still dying inside that a noble Lady said _wanker_ in front of the king."

Her eyes squeezed tight with a silent laugh that shook her shoulders, and he giggled with her. All of a sudden, her hand was in front of his face. Alistair closed his eyes just in time to feel the grainy, gooey heart squish to his face. It was on his eyelashes, even. He pinched his lashes between clean fingers and wiped the blood off, giggling when he met her eyes. "I'm even more handsome now, right?" he joked.

 _"Bloody_ sexy."

His laugh came from his belly. "And here I thought the only bad jokes came from me!"

"I learned from a master. My brother has a ridiculous pun for everything."

"One day, I hope to properly meet him. If he's the master and he trained you, then he must be even more ridiculous." He scooped out the rest of the innards and scooped up the gizzard, liver, and lungs. "Will your dog eat these?" he asked as he stood, holding the turkey by a leg in his other hand.

"Yes. He may try to suffocate you with his tongue in appreciation after, but yes, he will eat them."

"Thank you for the warning." He gestured with the dead turkey after she collected her daggers. "After you, my Lady." But before he followed her, he bent to pick up a feather not bloodied. As soon as he fell in step beside her, and after she sheathed her daggers, Alistair shuffled the feather tip under chin.

 _"Maker!"_ she yelped, swatting his hand away. Alistair laughed so hard he stumbled, holding his gut.

"Blood on your face, but a _feather_ riles you! Oh, but I will remember this!" He grinned in satisfaction.

"You will not!" she managed through a laugh.

"No, of course not. Not on my life," he giggled. He looked down at her, at the bloody mess they both were. "I have to admit, I never expected blood could be so much fun."

She smiled back. A different smile than she'd given him all morning. Maybe it was on account of his surprise, but she looked carefree now. "It _was_ fun… _is_ fun, I guess is right."

Alistair was honestly glad to have her.

Duncan was waiting for them at the gates, looking a bit cross, even. Alistair's smile immediately disappeared. Even Tesslyn's face fell; the Mighty-She-Who-Slapped-the-King.

Duncan opened his mouth, but hesitated to observe the blood on their faces. Then, "Teyrn Loghain -" he began.

"Is lucky I didn't I didn't cut off his prick and feed it to him!" In that instant Tess roused, frowning, her pulse already quickening at her temple.

"Grey Wardens do not slap kings or generals, Tesslyn," Duncan was firm, but kind.

"Cailan has _never_ been king to me!" she said. This wasn't a rant coming from her. This was recollection of the familiar. Alistair could tell by her eyes and the way she held herself. "The boy used to pull my hair and throw my dolls in the lake! He threw my favorite book in the fire! He would call me names and break things and tell Maric _I_ did it! And it got worse when Loghain wanted that pinprick Anora on the throne!" She glared at Duncan. "And that _son of a bitch_ Loghain! He used to pay me to kill people! I spent my teenage years honing my killing skills for his benefit! And _then_ the shitbag would _always -always! -_ add one more condition to my contracts – I bed him, or he exposes me in court, knowing it would destroy my entire family! He _flushed_ me so I wouldn't get _pregnant_!" she hissed violently. "I _promise_ you, I will _kill_ that man if I ever see him again! He will get us all killed! Convince that _dame_ of a king to get rid of him before all of Ostagar burns! _Loghain cannot be trusted!"_ She yanked the turkey from Alistair and called for her dog, then marched right back the way they came.

Duncan sighed. Alistair pointed after Tesslyn. "My charge. Got it!" He ran after her before Duncan could try to talk about what Tess just said.

"Hold on!" Alistair called. He took the turkey from her as he stepped in place at her side. Her faithful mabari kept pace on the other side of her. "There's a spot down by the river," Alistair said gently. But Tess fumed, silent and rigid. Her jaw and fists clenched, nostrils flaring. Without warning, she veered left, straight for the forest. Her dog adjusted to her sudden change in navigation as if he had predicted it, or maybe used to it. "Hey – Tess!" Alistair protested.

"I need a moment!" She snapped.

Alistair stood there and watched her disappear into the trees. "All right," he told no one, _"I_ will go cook the bird." He took five steps when a bird-rousing shriek curdled his blood and made the hair on the back of his neck stand. Alistair stood in a daze. Tess was a banshee, screeching with anger and desperation. He could hear the pain in her pitch, her frustration.

Alistair had felt like that before. Not as pained, but the desperation and frustration. Pushed around his whole life in every direction. Forced where he didn't want to be, forced to train how others wanted. Not allowed any say, ordered to endure it. He supposed being a Grey Warden was like that for Tess. Finding out Loghain was here with her after her family died, no place left to escape him.

Alistair felt stuck again, just like when he caught her on edge last night. Should he let her mourn and start the fire while he waited? Or should he go to her? And what good did going to her last night do if he ignored her now and she took to the knife?

Her screams didn't stop. He heard heavy crashing; she was throwing things. Was it safe to go to her if she was throwing things?

Then the noises stopped. He looked toward the forest where she had entered. His gut pressured him to go to her, even knotting up high in his belly the longer he stood there. Alistair took a pair of steps toward the forest, and sighed in relief of the knot untangling. He called her name when he stepped into the mess of trees, but received no response. He trekked further in, still no Tess. Had she run? She must have.

Finally, he heard noise. Sobbing. He picked up his pace, weaving around trees until he found her. Kneeling, folded up, her face in the ground. Broken branches and a small broken trees lay scattered around her as if she had turned into a whirlwind. The despair in her cry brought his attention back to her, plucking at his heart. Alistair dropped the turkey and knelt next to her. Before he could convince himself it may not be the best idea, he took her by the shoulders and brought her up in to his arms. He cradled her head at his chest and just let her cry.

Her hound sniffed at the fresh turkey. "I wouldn't eat that, pup," Alistair whispered, "it'll make you sick."

Tesslyn pulled out of his hold. "He's hungry," she choked out. Alistair looked down at her. She took deep breaths and wiped her hands under her eyes. She tried to stand up, but he stopped her. He cupped her chin and turned her head, craning his neck to look at the rune he'd painted. It wasn't that she wiped half of it away that got his attention. What caught his eye was now it looked like the symbol for Barrier. Protection. He supposed it wasn't exact, but it was damn close. No other rune came so close, he knew this.

He released her face and shoulder. She gave a sniff. Her eyes were red and swollen from her tears. She needed him. He knew that already. And the rune he'd drawn somehow changed to _Protection?_ Was the Maker telling him he had a job to do?

"I'm sorry I'm such a mess," she said, broken and ashamed. She wiped a fist across her right eye. "Sometimes I cry when I'm angry."

"Do you want me to kill him?" the words were out of his mouth before he knew he'd been considering them. He meant Loghain, of course.

 _Maker!_ What if she said _yes?_ Would he really execute Teyrn Loghain, general of the king's army, for her?

The quiver in her bottom lip made up his mind: _Yes._ Yes, he would kill the man who'd hurt her.

She shook her head. _"I_ want to." She blinked a few times. He let her stand up this time, and he nodded.

"Right." Alistair stood. "I suppose we should cook this bird before your dog gets sick." The mabari shied away from the fresh kill with a whine, and Alistair smiled. "Here. These you can have." He scooped up the innards and held his hand out. Po gave a bark of thanks and wolfed down the flesh, licking Alistair's hand clean. "Well done, pup." He picked up the turkey with the hand Po licked.

"My father called me pup…" Tess trailed off. Alistair looked at her and held out his free hand. With stricken eyes that said she felt undeserving, she let him close his fingers around hers. "Why are you doing this?" She dripped sorrow.

"Because I want to. I enjoy your company." He watched her as he led her out of the trees. "Why do you trust a man you just met?"

"That's _different_. You've been wonderful. I've…been cruel and miserable."

"You have _so_ been wonderful. I don't giggle like that for just anyone," he teased.

"If I had said yes, would you really killed him?" she meant Loghain.

"Yes. I don't like that he what he did to you makes you feel so horrible even when he's not around." He was confident he would killed Loghain if she had asked. "Regardless who he did it to, you just don't do that to a woman." He was rising to the occasion. "What he did is beyond forgiveness." Alistair took a deep breath to calm his pulse. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"When Cailan married Anora." She paused while her head gave another twitch. "No. I mean, it was at the wedding, but I didn't stay long enough to see them become husband and wife. As soon as the Grand Cleric started speaking, Loghain nodded to me, and I left. I was in the front row next to Teagan in a gigantic dress, and I stood up and stormed out. I'm sure a rumor spread through the nobles after that. Everyone expected me to marry Cailan. Storming out must have looked like I was bitter because he chose someone else."

"If he had insisted on you, would you be Queen right now?"

"Bloody void!" she scoffed in offense. He laughed. "Absolutely not! I would have slapped him in the Great Hall before all Fereldan!"

"He seemed a great deal interested in you last night."

She paused again and gave a small sigh. "I was his first kiss. It was a month after Loghain…flushed me. Cailan ambushed me in the hall on in the shadows, and he kissed me. He asked me to run away with him."

"So…he genuinely likes you? And you don't like him at all? You realize you could still become Queen."

"Do you _really_ want to address me as _Your Highness?_ " She glared up at him.

"No, I suppose not," he chuckled. "If he likes _you_ so much, why marry Anora? I mean, he had a choice. He was already King when he married her."

"Have you seen them together?"

"No."

"It's kind of like…you and me, I guess." Her hand twitched in his, and she started to withdraw. He kept her with him by locking their fingers, trying to show her the little things didn't bother him.

"She's maniacally violent and likes to giggle, and he's willing to jump off cliffs and murder for her?" He flirted.

She smiled like she wasn't sure she should be, and he grinned at her. "She's nowhere _near_ as fun as I am! The only knife she can hold is a table knife."

"Some wife indeed," he joked.

She mused. "She's knowledgeable in politics, and she knows books and the right people. Cailan makes her laugh. They are friends, I guess. That's what Cailan calls her. He's been suspicious, the last few times I saw him…He knew when I was in Orlais. I got a letter from him."

"And to get a letter from family while you're away is strange because…?" he prompted.

"Because I was posing as a servant to the Empress at the time. Her personal handmaiden, at that."

" _Oh_ ," he said, interested in this. "Do I get to hear this tale?"

"No."

"I have a feeling you're keeping all the good stories to yourself."

"And for your own benefit. You won't thank me if I told you."

"And you're so sure of that?" He untangled his fingers from hers near the edge of the river.

"Yes, because I'd also have to tell you _why_ so you would understand why I've endured what I did."

"Well, I am not going anywhere." He hesitated. "Actually, yes I am, but I'll be right back. We need kindling." He dropped the bird and left Tess there to retrace his steps back up the hill into the woods. He gathered an armful of dead branches and twigs, then hurried back.

"I have a question," she said as soon he returned.

"Perfect! I'm not sure if I have any answers!" he joked.

"You said lightning is a symbol for Spirit because it affects a mage's mana, and magic comes from a mage's spirit?"

"Yes, I did say that. That's pretty much the gist of it."

"So, hypothetically speaking -"

Alistair glanced up, already smiling.

"- if I swallowed enough lightning, would I become a mage?"she asked.

He froze, staring. The idea was incredibly absurd and absolutely brilliant. They both looked up at the sky.

Not a cloud in sight, though. "Do you happen to know any Lightning Dances? You know, like a rain dance, but for lightning," she asked, still searching the sky.

"No. But I wish I did." Alistair gathered rocks from the side of the river's edge. "I'm not sure how it will work, but it sounds worth a try." He placed the rocks into a circle on a more level part of the ground. "I wonder if you'd have to have to drink some lyrium for that to work?"

He wasn't even looking at her and he was aware that her head give a noticeable jerk. He did see her elbows and fingers clench at her sides, from the corner of his eye. Before he could even turn his head, she immediately ticked again. She turned and began unbuckling her armor straps. Every movement was choppy and sharp, fingers fumbling like she couldn't keep a grip. She shrugged out of her vest, revealing her undershirt, followed by her sleeves. Alistair felt dirty for watching, but he was so surprised – and curious – that he couldn't stop. It wasn't until she started stripping away at her undergarments that he spoke up.

"I, er…what…are you doing?" he asked. He'd seen half-nude women before, but _wounded_ ones, bleeding injuries. Tess was a different case. The sight of her bare back was…enticing wasn't a strong enough word. She pushed her underclothes down to her ankles, immediately followed by dropping her breechcloth. Alistair dared not move; simply the sight of her caused his groin to swell.

 _Sweet blood of Andraste!_ Just how powerful was this temptation if mere _sight_ aroused him?

"Going for a swim." She dropped her breast band.

"You…do realize I'm right here?…Don't you?" he asked as she unclasped her necklace. Oh, _Maker,_ she was stunning. Hips round and wide, drawing in as they closed near her waist. Plenty substance to cause dramatic shadows under her bottom. She looked plush, like she waited for caress, waited for his fingers to sink in.

"As much as I would n-" her neck twitched again "-normally love to tease a Chantry boy, I've got bigger prob-problems right now." As she stepped down to the water's edge, a twitch cringing her shoulders. He felt guilty for groping her with his eyes.

She fell into the river. Alistair jumped to his feet, but Tess surfaced with a loud gasp. He sighed and returned to the kindling, watching her swim upstream until she was out of sight. He wondered if the river's chill helped with whatever made her twitch. Even gorgeous noble women had problems, it seemed.

It was easier to concentrate on _everything_ without her stripping in front of him, standing in naked glory. Alistair used his flint knife to start a fire, and took the turkey and her daggers down to the water. Almost as soon as he set the turkey on a spit over the fire, Duncan's voice interrupted the quiet air:

"Where is she?"

Alistair looked up to see Duncan staring at the pile of clothes and armor on the ground, frowning and wary. Alistair gestured to the river. "She's swimming."

"She's nude?" it was more of a statement, "In front of you?"

Alistair laughed in embarrassment. "And quite lovely, too." Duncan sighed. "My clothes are still on, don't worry. I think she's trying to cool off, actually. I assume you heard her fuming a bit ago?"

"I figured that was her." He sighed. "The King has orders for you both when you're ready," Duncan relayed.

"What joy," Alistair said without excitement. "I'm sure _she'll_ be thrilled. I am also sure she'll kill Loghain if she sees him."

"She will have to show restraint, Alistair. The Wardens cannot risk being exiled during a Blight," Duncan enforced.

"I…I'll talk to her. I guarantee though, she won't be happy, Duncan. And clearly she doesn't care about status. To say she told Cailan to piss off is an understatement. _And_ I just had to _console_ the woman. Do we really have to see them?"

"I understand your concern, Alistair. But we all need to cooperate if we have any chance to defeat the Darkspawn."

"I _will kill_ Loghain."

They both looked over to find Tesslyn standing there. Gloriously naked, water dripping from her breasts. She was just as full in front as she was in back, and her breasts bounced when she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her wet skin sparkled in the eager sun. She was glorious indeed.

Duncan immediately spun around and hid his eyes, and Alistair giggled. "For the love of Andraste, Tesslyn!" Duncan muttered. Alistair laughed harder, staying crouched to turn the bird in case his bulge was bigger than he thought.

"I'm serious, Duncan. He is an evil far worse than any poison I can concoct. His own daughter becoming Queen immediately after Maric declared dead wasn't suspicion enough?" she challenged.

Alistair caught the escalation in her voice. "Duncan, would you leave us? Please?" he requested. Tesslyn folded herself in front of the fire opposite Alistair, still gloriously nude.

"Gladly. Tesslyn, please find me when you're dressed." Duncan spun and rushed up the hill.

Alistair settled back down on his side of the fire. "Did you hear what he said?"

"No. Only when you said I told Cailan to piss off."

"Cailan has orders for us," he relayed.

"Joy," she said dully.

"That is exactly what I said." Alistair watched her, trying to look casual. " So, tell me. Do you enjoy being naked in front of Chantry boys? Or just naked in general?" he asked. He hoped the flames between them masked the heat he felt in his cheeks.

"My body has never been mine. You're the first man to be so kind for so long without trying to bed me," she said.

"That's _horrible."_ He was genuinely appalled.

"That is the life of an assassin."

"And you just _let_ men treat you that way? She-Who-Slaps-Kings? She-Who-Slices-Darkspawn-Like-Bread?" he asked.

"You don't exactly have options when your employer threaten blackmail on your family if you don't perform."

"Did you ever tell your family? Couldn't your father have done something?"

She scoffed out a laugh. "Aside from _normal_ women considered a disgrace for premarital copulation -" Alistair felt his ears burn "- _no._ What _could_ I say? _Father, you know how you always wanted to marry me off to the King's son though I never liked him? Well, I let Maric's best friend steal my purity in exchange for the promise I would never have to be Queen. And Mother? You know how you were always secretly trying to marry me off to Teagan behind Father's back but he always declined? He's the sole person on this blasted world who knows what I've done since Father hired that Antivan Crow, but Teagan despises the monster I've become. Oh, and I can't give you grandchildren because sleeping with the King's best friend made him flush my lady parts till they shriveled!"_

"Tess, I'm sorry. I'm _really sorry._ I shouldn't have brought it up," he insisted. His _soul_ winced. Her story was horrible. That stuff really happened to people? Alistair felt like an incompetent excuse for a genlock's backside for bringing it up.

"It's not -" Her eyes closed with another crane of his neck. "It's not anything you could have stopped." She sighed into her knees. "I'm sorry. This is the first time I've had anyone take an interest in what happens to me. It's not…odd for me to go without clothes." Her jaw clenched with another wince and twitch. "It do-doesn't feel like I'm lacking."

"So, your plan is to walk naked around camp every day?" He tried to brighten the conversation.

"Maker, that's a _horrible_ plan. Is that a challenge?" she sounded amused, though she didn't look it.

He smiled for her. "I think it is," it came out in a giggle he hadn't planned for.

The corner of her mouth stretched a little, and for a moment, she just stared. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Make it _feel_ better? Do you _always_ do this?"

"Maybe it's not me," he suggested. "Most people can't stand me. So maybe it's _you_ instead of me?"

"How can it be me?" she asked. "You talked me off a ledge! I could _already_ feel the stone scraping against my bum as I let go! You just -" she gestured to where Duncan had stood moments ago. "You knew I needed him to leave…. _how_?" she rather sounded like she was begging.

"Hm…to answer your last question, I listened. I could hear your voice escalate, and your jaw got tight."

She just stared at him. "Do you have any idea how I can _stop_ from escalating?"

This was a good question. "Give me a moment to think about this, will you?" He stood and turned the turkey, searching his memories from his Templar training. "When I started my Templar studies, one of the first thing they taught us was about discipline. But a lot of that had to do with shield and sword control, and some lyrium -"

Again, she cringed at the neck.

"You said you pray?" he recalled. "Do you ever meditate? Just sit in silence, concentrate on the Canticles? Or just sit in prayer?"

"I sit in prayer a lot. Usually I'm bawling like a baby. But never meditating, I can't do that."

"What else do you pray for? Besides for your life to mean something important?"

She stared at the fire. Her jaw clenched again, as did her arms and hands around her knees. "For for-forgiveness…and to one day have my own ba-baby."

He watched her as he turned the turkey. "At the risk of getting slapped, I'm afraid being a Grey Warden doesn't help with the baby part. Every Warden I know of who has children had them before they became Tainted. I'm sorry."

"Loghain made that possible, not the Taint. I suppose it's for better. I think I'd make a terrible m-mother. I like to kill people too much."

"I sincerely want to giggle," he admitted. "But soldiers are parents, too. Sometimes killing is necessary. It doesn't make one a bad parent." Her hands and arms twitched without end, now, up to her shoulders and neck. It gave the impression she was shivering. "Are you cold?" he asked.

"N-no." A noise of pain slipped out with a sharp jerk, and another; she looked shamed. Her mabari cocked its head at her, then got up and ran uphill toward camp.

Just then it registered where he'd seen that ticking before. "Lyrium," he stated. Templars who had taken it for about five years would get withdrawals. Lyrium was highly addictive. While the Chantry controlled its trade to control the mages, they also used it as a leash for their Templars. It was a method of control to make sure no Templar got funny ideas about running away for some girl. Morning and evening distributions kept all the Templars crawling back for more.

Tess nodded with severe chops interrupting her fluidity. "Loghain." She tried to fight each twitch, but that only made the rest of her jerk harder. "It's w-worse when I'm angry. Runs through fas-s-ster."

"How long have you been on it?"

She closed her eyes every time her head jerked his direction. "N-nine years." Her dog came running back, clutching a bottle of blue liquid in its mouth. She crumbled over in relief at the sight of her dog. "Oh, pu-pup." Her fingers fumbled over the stopper, but when she opened it, she drank like she was desperate for water.

"He knows what you need?" he asked.

She just sat breathing in for a moment. Deep breaths, trying to fill the void every other second. Slowly but surely, her body stopped quaking. She rocked now, though he supposed that was a concentration thing. She did it last night, too, on the ledge. "Po has seen me fall hard. I've tried to wean before. It hurts. It feels like my insides are burning. makes me itch something horrible." She shook her head. "That asshole turned me into a weapon. When I'm not fighting..." she shook her heard again, staring hard into the fire. "It's like I'm iron. The more I sit still, the more I rust, and without oil I'll rust quicker. Lyrium is my oil."

Alistair had never known anyone with such a grooved life before. For being so beautiful on the outside, as beautiful as she was in their friendship, she was scarred where people shouldn't be. It amazed him she had survived such a life.

"I am particularly effective against mages." She finally looked at him. "You probably already guessed that, though. Templar stuff."

"I think you're just as effect against non-magic things, too. You didn't let the other Darkspawn live just as much as you didn't let the Darkspawn mage live."

She smiled was crooked, empty. She wasn't convinced of "He tested my resistance when he realized I couldn't go without it."

"Loghain?" He was losing more and more respect for that man.

She shook her head. "No, in Tevinter. But he was the reason I was there. With enough lyrium, you can…sort of absorb the spell and reverse it. It's…it feels like I've swallowed lightning." Their eyes met over the flames, and she tapped her cheek. "When you put that rune on my face, it made me think of that."

"Despite how I joked about it, it sounds really painful, Tess. I don't like to tell people, but they don't wait till you've taken your vows to start giving you lyrium. It's part of the training. Granted, they're small doses. But still, swallowing the weak stuff is horrible enough." He said.

"It is extremely painful and the worst thing I have ever tasted by a long shot…yet…it's also incomparable. Nothing else feels like it. They say the same thing about sex, but this tops that with an aggravation that cannot be reached except through lyrium." She paused. "Maybe someday you'll see it."

"How much lyrium do you use for that?"

"I don't ever mix it how I'm supposed to, but it should be a large handful of dust, a crushed spirit shard, and concentrator agent."

"Maker, Tess! That should kill you! Normal people bleed from their eyes at more than a pinch!" he cried out softly.

"The Taint couldn't kill me either."

"Just because we both agree you're indestructible does not mean you should keep testing that."

"That's sort of hard to avoid. Death sort of follows me around like a shadow."

"It doesn't count if _you_ cause the death," he teased. The corners of her mouth turned.

"Yes," Tess agreed with a nod. _"Some_ of those shadows happen to be in front of me."

"I thought so." He smiled for her.

When the turkey was ready, she dressed; Alistair turned his back to her so he wouldn't stare the whole time. He cut off the legs for himself and Tess, and gave a huge slab of breast-meat to the dog. They sat together as they ate, and for a while, they made no sound except with food. It wasn't until they were on their second helpings that either of them spoke.

"You look nothing like your brother," he said.

"My brother will be honored someone is thinking of him."

He laughed. "No! I mean, who do you take after, your mother or you father?"

She grinned between bites. "Both. Why?"

"You look nothing like Fergus. I don't remember everything about him, I can't picture you two as family."

"Really? He looks like my father, and I look like the Maker couldn't make up his mind so He just _smashed_ my parents' faces together," she said. Alistair laughed again, choking on his food. "You're welcome."

"Underneath all that moan and groan yesterday, I knew you had a sense of humor." He ripped off another chunk of meat with his teeth. "And your eyes?"

"My mother." She watched him while they ate. "You? You have adorable freckles."

"Adorable freckles, she says." He glanced at her. "That's the first time I've heard that. I suppose my mother, but I didn't know her. She died in childbirth. I'm told she was a ginger, too."

"Do you not like your color?"

"I assume that means _you_ like it," he tried to flirt though his mouth was half-full.

"I do. It's a nice change from all the black and brown and gray."

"One day, I will be one of those."

"Oh? You're going to paint your hair black? With what?" she joked.

He laughed. "What do you think we do with all that leftover Joining Juice?"

"Joining Juice?" She wrinkled her nose in disgust with a shudder that shirked down her back. Alistair laughed again.

"Says the woman who stood in front of me and stuck a Darkspawn just to show me his insides."

"You weren't eating," she grumbled. Yet she took another bite.

"That hasn't stopped you. You're keeping up with me, even," he teased. She shot him a sideways glare. _"Hey,"_ he said softly. He nudged her with his shoulder. "You're fun to tease."

"I suppose you're welcome again."

"I'm serious. I enjoy your company." He took another bite, chewing on one side of his mouth so he could talk. "Most people think I'm annoying."

"I don't think so."

"I know. I appreciate it. I'm glad you're the one who survived." Alistair meant every word.

When they finally made it back to camp, Duncan was busy with Cailan. Alistair acquired six bottles of mead, and until the sun was high above them, under shade trees they drank. Younger Grey Wardens teased him as they passed by, shouting things like _Chantry boy finally found a_ _girl to play with_ and _Little Templar's all grown up_. Tess told him to ignore them, especially the ones directed at her; Y _ou_ _can do better than Alistair, sweetheart!_ Only one seemed to bother her; _Aren't those giant feet awkward in bed? Oy Alistair! Not your wanker-toes, mate, you're supposed to use your cobbler wart!_ Alistair recognized him as one of the Free Marches Wardens. He grimaced, not wanting Tess to hear this stuff, especially about _him_.

Green eyes narrowed beside Alistair. She muttered something harsh, then yelled with a hard smirk. "You know what they say; if a man has giant feet...well, _It's true!"_ The fallen face of the Warden glued satisfaction on Tess' face.

Now more embarrassed by Tess, Alistair hid his face in his knees, unable to stop laughing. Maker, he was glad for her. One insinuating remark from a beautiful woman shut the Brothers up.

Tess patted Alistair's back. "I wouldn't worry about that for awhile. I'm well aware of my beauty. They'll learn soon enough who hasn't left your side." Alistair peeked at her, and leaned back against the tree with a deep breath. She shrieked with laughter. "You look like a lobster!"

He laughed all over again. "This your fault! I never told you to tell him my -" but he was so embarrassed he couldn't even say it. Her mouth almost stretched off her face, her eyes scrunched in her giggles. Alitair couldn't take a proper breath without giggling.

He did a double-take as he saw familiar gold armor in the distance. Even from this far, King Cailan looked like he felt excluded. Alistair felt the King's stare as he and Tess laughed all over again. Cailan watched, nothing more, as Alistair and Tess laughed each time their eyes met. When Alistair glanced over again, Cailan was gone.

When their bottles emptied and their spontaneous giggles waned, they searched for Duncan. Duncan was busy with the King's war council, though. Alistair took Tess to the smithy to get fitted for official Grey Warden armor, instead. Alistair found the fitting bothered him. She not only had to strip to under clothes, but also get her hips, thighs, length of leg, waist, and breasts measured. Not only _at_ her breasts, but under them and across and their length. This _really_ bothered Alistair. _He'd_ gone through the similar measuring, but this was different. This was _Tess_.

Alistair stood with his arms over his chest, frowning. "Is that necessary? Do you _really_ have to touch her there?" he disapproved. The male smith wrapped the strip of measuring cloth around her back and under her breasts.

"Do you want her safe or not?" the smith asked, not amused.

"Yes, but is it necessary to… _fondle_ her like that?"

"If I don't get a proper measurement, it will be loose, and then what's the point?" the smith said. Alistair met Tesslyn's eyes. He supposed he should just let the smith do his job, though it was hard not to tell him to take his hands off her. "Well, good news," the smith announced after he put his measuring tape away. "There a set of light armor already stitched that should fit you."

"Should?" Alistair echoed in doubt.

"There was a female recruit a few months back, didn't make it a week. I couldn't throw away that sort of craftsmanship. Just about the same measurements; she was a bit longer up top, but it should be fine. It's on the top in the chest back there," the smith pointed behind the dummy-stand.

"There was another woman who had my same measurements? _Perish_ the thought! _What_ was that Maker thinking?" Tess joked. Alistair's mouth stretched, and he walked around her to retrieve the armor.

"I'll have to shape a breastplate, but that will take a moment," the smith told them.

"I don't do heavy armor," Tess said with large eyes. "I use daggers and a bow. Heavy armor isn't suitable for that."

"It's not big, just something to cover the heart."

"Oh, right. Something that already has its own natural armor." She nodded. The smith glared at her. "I'm just saying – my squishy innards are more vulnerable!" she squeaked.

"Would you rather make the armor, then?"

"I made the one I was already wearing," she offered.

"Go try on your leathers on. I'll have the breastplate and joint pads up soon enough." The smith shooed them away. Tess redressed in the blackened leather she'd arrived in, and Alistair led her away.

"There's really not privacy to dress here," Alistair told her. "We just don't have any women in Ferelden's order. Privacy has never been an issue. But I can stand watch while you change in a dark corner."

"Is it possible to assure you I'll be fine dressing myself for a short moment?"

He tried not to smile. "No." He gave her a look. "Have you honestly seen yourself? And all these deprived Wardens?" She bit her lips and blushed.

He stood watch indeed, her mabari with him. Alistair paced, his head turned away as she switched armor behind the large trees they'd drank under.

"How do I look?" she asked.

"Tess, if you're naked again -" She cut him off with a hard giggle. Alistair turned around anyway, smiling shy himself. He gave her a look-over, trying to stay professional despite how cute she looked. Everything on the armor complimented her skin. She seemed to belong in Grey Warden armor. "How does it feel? Did it tighten? How are the straps? The colors look good on you."

"It fits better than I expected. I'm honestly not sure what to think of the Maker creating another woman with my body," she joked.

"You're absolutely right to be concerned. How dare He!" he teased. He reached for her collar, to make sure it covered her neck properly, but withdrew his hands when his eyes met her.

She stared at him with a gentleness she didn't look at anybody else with. "Thank you, Alistair."

It was little moments like this that made him want to forget everything else and just kiss her. Too many of these moments had already happened today. He needed to redirect his attention. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes, actually," she admitted with a small grimace.

He bent to retrieve her other armor from the ground. "I'll go track down the cook. _And_ I need to find Duncan. If he's still with King Cailan, it's best I go alone…"

"I agree."

He thought for a moment. "Have you met Wynne yet?"

"Wynne?" she echoed.

"She's a mage, an elderly lady, but spiritied. I'll introduce you, and then let you keep an eye on her while I hunt down the King who confiscated my mentor."

"Oh! You'll let _me_ watch _her._ " Her smile was also getting shyer as their time together progressed.

"That is correct. Can't have these funny mages running amok, can we?"

"No mucky mages. Got it."

He grinned, forcing himself to step back to actually start on his duties. "Is there anything you won't eat?"

"Poison."

"No one's poisoning you on my watch," he promised her.

She sighed. "Is there any blasted cheese here? And bread?"

"There had better be."

"You know, you're going to be in trouble if you don't stop talking to me with those eyes."

"Am I now?" He grinned wider. "I do believe this is what Duncan tried to warn me about earlier. Something about baby Grey Wardens."

She snorted into laughter, stumbling as she tried to leave the shadows. "What? When did he say this?"

"This morning when I found your bow." He walked next to her again. "He told me to keep my clothes on for a year."

She giggled hard. "For a year?"

He was embarrassed just thinking about his answer. "I told him I _wasn't trying_ to make babies, but that was before you took off your clothes down at the river."

"Hours before a battle is a horrible time to be thinking about making babies."

"Hm. You're right. Not nearly enough time, is it?" he teased. She ducked her head in embarrassment, and from behind her hand she glowed pink in the face. "What?" he laughed. "I just sort of, you know, picture it being _ridiculously_ romantic and lasting all night long. With, I don't know, rose petals and candles."

"And wine, please."

"Yes, with wine. Wait, is that more romantic than mead?"

"No! I mean right now!" she giggled through her hand.

"Oh! Right!" he giggled with her, his cheeks burning hotter. "Wine, bread and cheese. Yes, of course. _Food._ You started this, you know." He tossed her armor on the bedmat inside her tent. "Something about my eyes talking you out of your clothes, or something."

"Maker!" she breathed. Her face almost flamed as she dropped her hand. He laughed softly and pulled her into his chest.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he said into her hair with a giggle. "You are absolutely adorable like this. I thought _I_ was the only one who turned bright red!"

She laughed harder into his shoulder. Then suddenly her hands gripped his bottom, fingers sunk in. His hips arched into her in surprise. Alistair fell into violent titters at her shoulder.

"You're going to be the end of me!" he rasped. He knew exactly how bright his burning face was.

"This is payback, little Templar," she teased, still giggling.

"Is that all I am to you now? A little Templar?"

"The littlest Templars are easy to tease."

"So are scary assassins." He sighed. Alistair stayed at her shoulder with his arms wound tight even after he stopped laughing. She let go of his bottom and her arms crossed behind him, snuggling into him. He hadn't realized he'd needed her hug till now, till he was in it. This was his friend, his deepest friend, his best friend already. Alistair knew that much. He tightened his arms around her and silently thanked the Maker for her.

"Am I interrupting something?" a familiar voice said. That was definitely _not_ the Maker responding.

"Can I help you, Cailan?" Alistair straightened and took his arms from Tesslyn; hear arms were slower to retract. Alistair turned to face his brother.

"Isn't this cheerful? A little family reunion!" Cailan smiled at the both of them. Alistair couldn't tell if Cailan was being smug, or if this was normal Cailan-cheer. Tess didn't seem phased by his words.

"Seeking family affection, are you?" Tesslyn glared.

"Something like that. Duncan has a job for you, Alistair."

"Ooh!" Tesslyn said in clear mockery. "The King of Ferelden is an _errand_ boy now."

"I only agreed because I wish to speak to you, cousin. I understand you have the rest of your armor to collect. I shall accompany you while Alistair helps the mages with some heavy lifting."

Alistair groaned. "I don't like either of these ideas. You realize she's more likely to slap you again, right?" he asked.

Cailan actually laughed. "Of that, I have no doubt. This is a struggle I've been dealing with since we were children. Isn't that right, Tesslyn?"

"I _really_ don't like the way he says your name," Alistair told Tess. "Your Royal Whatever-ness, I'm afraid you'll have to go find your own Grey Warden. This one is mine."

Cailan grinned. "After that public groping half the camp saw a minute ago, I have no doubt of that either."

"You sound jealous, Cailan. Of him, or me?" Tess asked.

Both the men stood incredulous. Alistair suspected she knew he was Cailan's brother. "That's – _no._ _Really,_ Tess?" he asked. She giggled only for Alistair.

"I agree with Alistair. Please, go attend to the mages, Alistair. I _do_ need to talk to my cousin," Cailan told him.

Alistair sighed and looked at Tess. "I guess we'll eat after the mages use me for my body," he told her. Her eyebrows shot up in interest. Alistair couldn't help his grin; that _one_ look made him feel attractive, _desired_.

"I'm thinking I'd rather go with _you_ …and just… _watch_ …"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this from _you_ two, of all people," Cailan said.

"Right, I can only imagine it's a little strange coming from a woman you almost married and… _me,"_ Alistair shot his brother a flat stare.

"Yes, that," Cailan said, not amused.

 _"Don't touch her._ I'm _serious._ " Alistair then looked at Tess. " _Try_ not to kill him. He _is_ still the King," he whispered.

"He's not _my_ king."

"Yes, I know." Cailan said without enthusiasm. Tess shot a demanding brow up. "It's obvious who you're loyal to, is all I'm saying. You two have been attached at the hip all day."

"You're jealous," Alistair joked. "Fine! I'm leaving!" He looked at Tess once more, and then left her to find a mage who knew what he should to do.

Cailan waited until his brother was out of earshot. "Honestly, what does he have that I don't?"

"A heart, a brain, he doesn't take my belongings and _burn_ them – I have a whole list. Shall I go on?" Tesslyn always liked reminding him they were family long before he became King.

"You know what? Never-mind."

"What is it you want?" she sounded irritated.

Cailan took a deep breath. "Actually, may we talk in my tent, please? I'm afraid I may not be able to save face for this."

"Alistair won't like this."

"I know." He searched her eyes.

She glanced towards where Alistair had disappeared to, then she agreed. "You know, despite the fact I can't stand you, you're actually starting to worry me," she said as he closed them inside his tent.

"Sit, please." Cailan dug out a bottle of brandy and opened it. He made a face as he took a drink, and passed the bottle to her.

"Cailan…"

"I know you think I'm an idiot, especially for keeping Loghain around."

"That's a bit of an understatement."

"Please, just hear me out," he said firmly, keeping his voice gentle. "I'm just trying to say goodbye, Tesslyn. That is all."

She stared at him, otherwise frozen. Her eyes were wild with curiosity, and for the first time in their lives, concern. "Cailan?"

"Loghain insists we do this without the Orleasians. He harbors grudges long grown cold. I have…been suspicious since father...died. But he is my friend's father -"

" _Friend's_?" she echoed. "Is that all she is to you now?"

"Yes, Anora does happen to be my friend, in addition to my… _wife,"_ he said softly. A word that should refer to Tesslyn, not Anora. "As I was saying, he _did_ help father win back Ferelden. I keep him around to honor my father, that is all."

"Cailan -"

"I'm fighting at Duncan's side tonight because I'd rather die with someone I trust."

" _Cailan_ -"

"If I should die, and I fear I am, the chest you're sitting on is enchanted with blood magic. It was my father's, and it opens to his blood. _My_ blood, and Alistair's. If I die, have Alistair open it, and get word to Celene."

" _Cailan Theirin!_ " she hissed.

Cailan met her eyes. She frowned, worry potent and presiding over irritation. "Take care of Alistair for me. _Marry_ him, do what you have to, just take care of him."

"What happened to the man who so confidently welcomed me to Ostagar yesterday?" she asked.

"I have to let the troops believe we can do this. But I have no doubt we will fail. We need Grey Wardens to end this, yet Loghain has turned them away." Cailan took the drink she hadn't touched and swallowed another bitter mouthful. He took another swig before giving it back to her. _"Why_ did you bed him?"

Now she put the bottle to her lips. "It wasn't voluntary, believe me." She paused. "No, I _did_ agree."

 _"Why?_ You had just grown of _age_ nine years ago. You wouldn't even have _me_ nine years ago." More bitter than harsh drink to learn the woman he'd always loved had been taken by his wife father's

"He would have blackmailed my parents, Cailan."

"You could have married me and been done with him forever. You _never_ would have had to flee to Orlais."

"How did you even know I was there?"

"Celene is a good friend. I trust her. I've been planning to divorce Anora, and marry Celene. It was supposed to happen after we ended the Blight together. Well, her troops and mine." He grabbed the bottle and took a drink. "She has promised me to support you and Alistair."

"You have been spying on me, Cailan."

"Celene is a smart woman. Why else would a beautiful woman of royal Ferelden blood work so earnestly to earn her trust?"

"She never mentioned she told you."

"Of course not. I asked her not to. I couldn't risk sending information in writing." He took yet another drink. " _Marry_ him, Tesslyn. He is _fond_ of you, I see it all over his face, even how he stands and walks."

"The Landsmeet will never allow me to be Queen."

"The Landsmeet will have no choice but to let you. If Alistair wasn't alive, you would be next in line for the throne anyway, either you or Fergus. As the wife to the heir, you'd have an even greater claim."

" _Damn_ you, Cailan." She hung her head down between her knees. "Damn you to the ends of the Fade."

" _Why_ didn't you marry me? I honestly want to know."

She met his eyes and sighed. "Honestly?"

 _"Yes,_ honestly."

"Every time I look at you, I see the boy who threw my dolls and books. I remember you telling Maric it was _my_ fault when you broke the chandelier, _and_ ripped a hole through your mother's portrait. Maker, you were _so_ _obnoxious_ , Cailan! I was _so_ desperate to _not_ have to spend the rest of my life with you that I killed Sophia and Roslyn and Dinea -"

"You _loved_ Dinea," he recalled. "You had matching wardrobes, even."

 _"How_ did you -? _No!_ I was _horrified_ with the thought of become _wife_ to the little boy who hated me so much he _destroyed_ my things!"

Cailan broke down in a cascade of quiet laughter. "I never hated you, Tesslyn! For the love of Andraste, I was just trying to get you to _like_ me! I was _trying_ to get you put down your books and pay attention to _me_ for once. I only saw you three times a year."

"You couldn't have asked? Like a _normal_ superior being?"

He looked at her. "Do you like him? Alistair?"

She stared in silence for a moment. "He has been _wonderful."_

"Do you _like_ him? I saw you grab his bum," he said.

"That was payback. He made me flush like a bonfire." She was even a little pink in reminiscence.

"I admit I'm envious of you both. You look at each other magnificently. I don't feel that with Anora at all. I've tried looking for it other places. I just can't find it. It's always been you, but..." he shook his head and drank again.

"You're over-thinking this, Cailan. Our family is _cursed_ with tragedy in love."

"That does seem to be the case, doesn't it?" He paused. "If you hadn't met him, I would be trying to seduce you right now." He took another drink. "The one thing I've always wanted, and now she belongs to my brother. Does he know you know?"

"I don't know if he knows that I know." Cailan smiled at her. She even cracked a small one in return. "I haven't told him, but I think he suspects. He doesn't seem to want to talk about it. And _I_ don't belong to _anyone."_

He laughed again. "You _definitely_ belong to Alistair, Tesslyn. Everyone here can see it. But...all things considering, I approve. I still wish that was _me,_ but he looks happy. You both do."

"I spend a total of _one day_ with the man, and that makes us star-crossed lovers?" she was befuddled.

"It's your behavior when you're with him, Tesslyn, and his. He has a reputation for being the annoying, rambunctious, naive virgin, and suddenly he's found a woman who won't tear her eyes from him."

"He has remarkable freckles."

"Of course," he laughed. He watched her take a drink, then drank for himself. He looked down at the bottle. "Please take care of him?" he pressed. "He deserves you."

"Your little brother deserves an assassin? Classic sibling rivalry if I ever saw it."

"How many times have _I_ tried to marry you? This isn't rivalry, I approve of you more than any woman in this country. He deserves to be taken care of, and he deserves it from the woman he adores," he told her.

She looked conflicted. "I never intended to take the throne with him, Cailan."

"But you _have_ to, to keep history from repeating itself. You know what to watch for. You will make a fine queen _as long as you're_ _his_ queen." He stood. "Promise me, cousin."

She looked like she didn't want to promise what he was asking. She stood with a small sigh.

"Tesslyn?" he prompted.

"I promise to take care of Alistair," she whispered.

"And _not_ in the assassin-way," he joked.

"I promise to nurture him, _not_ kill him," she elaborated.

Cailan tilted her head to see in her eyes. A moment of searching; a lifetime of memories trying to win her heart. He leaned down and brushed her lips with his. She tasted of the bitter brandy they had shared, but her lips were soft. _If only he could freeze time._ "Goodbye," he whispered. He pressed his lips harder, wanting nothing more than waste the afternoon charming her into his bare arms. But she was no longer acquirable.

His heart in Tesslyn would be all that remained of him come daybreak. The most important heirloom Cailan would leave his brother. He left her swiftly, the bottle in her hands and regret on her face.

Alistair sat with a sour knot in his gut next to Tess' mabari some paces outside the king's tent. Tess had joined Cailan after all. The two had been in there for some time. Alistair even had time to change into his armor, and get bread, smoked ham and a sack of cheese wedges from the cook. But with his stomach in such a knot, his imagination running wild, he could only bring a bottle of wine to his lips.

The flat to the royal tent opened and Cailan stepped out in his golden armor. Alistair stood, prepared to confront his brother, but Cailan headed straight for him. Tess emerged, still dressed, a bottle in her hands and a furrowed brow. Before Alistair could say anything, Cailan wrapped him in a tight hug.

"I am sorry for everything, brother,"Cailan whispered.

"I – what? What's going on?" Alistair asked, watching Tess ahead of him because he couldn't otherwise move.

"Surely you can give your only brother a hug, now?" Cailan said. Uncertain and awkward, Alistair hugged his brother the best he could with full hands.

"What's going on?" he repeated.

"I'm _proud_ of you, brother." This was most Cailan had ever acknowledged him as family. They'd never talked for more than a moment before."You are the finest Grey Warden I know, and a worthy man."

"All right, Cailan, now you're worrying me," Alistair said.

Cailan pulled back and held him by the shoulders; Alistair was slightly taller. That signature radiant smile beamed before him. But there was something wrong. Cailan's brow grooved just enough to expose concern. "Make an honest woman out of her, Alistair."

 _"What?"_ His eyes flashed to Tess. She, too, was disturbed.

"Live gloriously. _Lead_ gloriously. Follow your heart. Never let her out of your sight." Cailan clasped him in another hug and kissed his cheek. Then he let go and stepped aside to make room for Tesslyn.

"Cailan," she said. "I'm _sorry_ , for what it's worth."

Cailan reapplied had a mask of confidence. "For what?" he laughed. _"Smile,_ cousin! These drooling men need a strong woman to show them how it's done!" The King of Ferelden bowed elaborately to them, Tess at Alistair's side. "You have my blessing, my friends. I wish I could be there to give you away, cousin." With that, Cailan turned his back to them and departed.

"What in Andraste's name was that about?" Alistair wondered aloud.

"He was saying goodbye."

"Goodbye? He _means_ to die?" He hissed.

"He doesn't believe he will survive."

"But he's been so confident! He's made everyone believe we'll win."

"Deception apparently runs quite well in my family."

"So...he took you in there to…say goodbye? He didn't -"

Tess met his eyes. "No, he didn't. He kissed me, but that was it." She took a drink from the bottle in her hand. "He gave me instruction for after he dies." She took another drink, and another. " _Damn_ that man!" she muttered, conflict contorting her face.

Alistair was suddenly very aware that, despite he enjoyed the day with her, Tess had a life of her own before him. Including becoming close to being his only brother's wife. His infatuation with her was silly, meek. A childish attraction.

"Did you… _do_ you regret not marrying him?"

She looked up at him.

"Did you kiss him back?" _Yes, Alistair was jealous_. She was _his._ Duncan himself gave her to _him._

"No and no."

"He told me not to let you out of my sight."

"I thought you and I had already established that?" she challenged. Flirted? His gut began unraveling. Maybe he hadn't imagined the euphoria from the day at all.

Her eyes traveled down, and she scoped out his Grey Warden armor. "Oh, I have the rest of your armor," he told her, gesturing off to their tents.

"Are we _allowed_ to wear the same costume to the same party?" she joked.

He smiled for her. "I guarantee you look better in it than I do."

"I seriously doubt that." She peeked in the sack or cheese, and gasped. "You didn't!" she snatched it from him, and he chuckled.

"I did, but you have to share. I happen to like cheese."

"Pucker off!" She immediately turned and tried to walk off with the sack.

He laughed. "You spend _half an hour_ with the King, and suddenly think you can do anything you want!" he teased.

"I _can_ do anything I want!" She put a chunk of cheese in her mouth, making sure he watched.

"That's very cute," he grinned.

"Good." She came back to him to put a piece to his lips, and all of a sudden the warm feelings came rushing back. Swelling affection exploded in his chest and spread like the Flame of Andraste to his every digit. _This_ is what he wanted, to _share_ with her. He wanted to share _everything_ with her. Alistair closed his lips and took the cheese with his tongue, licking her fingers. Eyes locked, he sucked her fingers clean. _Intimate;_ he understood the word now. "Are you trying to turn me on just _moments_ before battle?" she whispered.

He laughed a little. "Yes." She turned away with a shy grin. He didn't even care if he was imagining it all. What she did to him felt real enough.

They sat in front of their tents to eat. It turned out she burned through the lyrium faster when she drank, as well as when she was angry. She went through two vials of lyrium while they emptied a bottle of wine together. Duncan still hadn't showed by the time the sun fell. They gave Po the rest of the bread, drank a bit more wine, and Alistair pulled Tess to her feet to finish dressing her.

"You realize it looks like you're worshiping me when you're like this?" she said.

Alistair looked up, crouched in front of her as he secured her shin guards on. "I _am_ worshiping you," he said.

"I don't suppose this is why everyone keeps telling us to get married already?" she smirked.

He grinned. "I don't care what anyone says. As long as you're not marrying the King, I think my windows of opportunity are still wide open." He tightened the straps behind her calf.

"And…what if _a_ king asked me for my hand?"

He looked up again. " _A_ king?" he echoed.

 _"A_ king," she confirmed.

"Does this king have a name?"

She hesitated. "Give me a moment. I hadn't thought this far ahead." He laughed, standing up. Alistair lowered the mantle over her head, and he did a double-take. She had a distant glaze in her eyes even as she looked at him. "Are you afraid of death, Alistair?" she whispered.

He glanced to her eyes as he fastened straps around her upper arm, securing the shoulder piece. "We are not talking about death, Tesslyn," he said gently. "I expect you back here as soon as this thing is over."

"But are you?" she insisted.

He sighed. "Death, no. Dying…yeah, a little." He stepped to the side to fasten the other shoulder piece. "I guess I'm more afraid of what dying _means_ ," he told her.

"What does it mean to you?" She looked up him.

"As of yesterday, it meant nothing. But right now…death either means leaving you, or losing you. I don't want either of those to happen." He slid behind her before he could distract himself in the emeralds that searched his face. He tightened the straps over her arms and around her ribs, weaving them through buckles. Alistair crossed them for reinforcement; as protected as possible.

"Alistair? If tonight fares poorly…" she began as he stood before her her again.

"I can't promise we won't die, Tess," he couldn't make the words out louder than a whisper.

"I know. I was just…I just want to thank you. For being the only friend I've ever had." Her eyes glossed over as she searched him.

"My Lady, the honor is all mine," he insisted. He brought the back of her hand up to his lips. She truly looked stricken by the notion this was goodbye.

"Please don't die," she whispered. "I don't have anyone else."

"You have my word that I will try my hardest to stay alive. I will do whatever it takes to come back to you," he promised her. Her bottom lip quivered, and before he could blink, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him with an iron grip, and Alistair could not move. So he held her.

It was in the act of hugging this frightened woman that Alistair caught a glimpse of a life he might have had in some other future. Someone who loved him and feared for his safety, someone to mourn him if he never returned, someone to miss him. Someone to hold him when he did come home. It was this moment that kept him frozen to her. Her fear that he would leave her was enough to scare him into thinking the same. After all, Cailan believed they would fail. It had to be true then, right? So was this all Alistair met Tess for? The Maker's final gift so Alistair would know what it felt like to love and be loved upon dying? So he would understand the true meaning of sacrifice when it came down to him or her? He buried his face in her neck. _No,_ _this wasn't fair._ _He wanted more time with her._

He pressed his lips to the side of her head. "I'm proud to have you, Tesslyn."


	5. The Battle at Ostagar

A voice cleared nearby. Alistair sighed, reluctant to let go of the woman in his arms.

"I'm sorry, you two, but we have orders to discuss," Duncan's voice spake. Only this made Alistair release Tess. Duncan was the only other person he wanted to say goodbye to. Tess blinked beside him, and two tears spilled out over her eyelashes and rolled down her cheeks. "I am sorry to interrupt, I truly am. I trust you've enjoyed your day together, though?"

Tess nodded, ducking her head as more tears spilled out. "Today has been wonderful, Duncan," Alistair said.

"I'm glad there were moments without tears, then." Duncan smiled at Tess, but this didn't seem to cheer her. "I apologize for my unavailability today. There was quite an argument over where to station you both."

"Someone was arguing over _us?_ " Alistair clarified.

"Yes. Loghain wanted you down in the thick of battle, and Cailan kept pushing to place you both somewhere safer."

Tess looked at Duncan now. "Cailan said goodbye. Duncan, _can't_ you _sway_ him?" she begged. "He believes he's going to his death with you. _Please_ talk him out of this!" she was crying, now.

"I'm afraid he's made up his mind, Tesslyn. You know him better than I. He is a determined young man. And from the sound of it, he seems to already have plans for what it to come next."

"Wait – Duncan – you're _agreeing_ to this? To _dying_ with him?" Alistair stared at the closest thing he'd ever had for a father.

"It is Cailan's request that I fight by his side, Alistair."

"And what about _my_ request?" Alistair demanded. "Where is he sending us? How safe is this place he wants us to go?"

"King Cailan has ordered you both go ensure that the tower beacon gets lit. Loghain's soldiers are already inside. He just wants you to ensure that it happens. The tower should be plenty secure."

Tess gave an obvious sigh of relief.

"What?" Alistair cried out quietly. "I'm not going to fight?"

"It is important the beacon gets lit, Alistair."

"Isn't it also important that the Warden-Commander of Ferelden lives?" Alistair challenged.

"If the beacon remains unlit, Loghain's troops won't know when to charge."

"Cailan doesn't believe Loghain will fight," Tess spoke up.

" _Yes! That! Thank_ you!" Alistair took another double-take at her. "Oh, Maker! Tess, I'm so sorry! I'm not trying to -" he sighed, feeling like an arse for trying to insist he get himself killed right after he'd promised to come back to her. He reached up and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. "I just…Cailan really needs two Grey Wardens to look at it happening? I mean, _why_ can't we go fight with you?" he asked Duncan.

"These are the King's orders, Alistair. We must do as he wishes, Blight or no. We are on his land," Duncan pressed kindly.

"Fine," he grumbled. "But just so you know, if the King ever _wishes_ me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line. Blight or no," he joked, for Tesslyn's sake. He was relieved when she let out a laugh.

"I think I'd like to see that," she joked back.

"For _you_ , maybe. But it has to be a pretty dress," he teased her.

Duncan sighed.

"Well, you've made _her_ happy, "Alistair told his mentor. "And thwarted an epic romantic homecoming, on my part."

"Oh, it wasn't going to be epic." Tess shook her head, recovering faster since Alistair stopped resisting safety in front of her. "I was just going to steal some more of Cailan's wine."

"Oh. Well, then…thank you," he said to Duncan.

"You two…" Duncan began.

"Light the beacon. Got it," Tess said with a nod.

" _Watch_ someone _else_ light it," Alistair corrected, animating his voice.

" _Oh."_ She did sound disappointed. Alistair giggled.

Duncan sighed again. "Is this going to be too hard for you both?"

"Possibly. I don't want her watching anyone cuter than me," Alistair joked. "Blight or no."

"Alistair."

"All right, all right." Alistair sighed. He paused. "Duncan…May the Maker watch over you."

"May the Maker watch over us all." Duncan hesitated before walking away. Alistair watched him leave, and a dissatisfied knot settled in his gut. That was the only goodbye he was going to give the closest thing he had to a father?

Tess gave him a gentle push. "Go to him," she urged. He didn't have to be told twice.

"Duncan, wait!" Alistair caught up to the old man and hugged him before Duncan could speak. "You've been like a father to me. If tonight ends poorly…" he let go and took a step back. "I want you to know I haven't taken that for granted."

Duncan smiled at him. "I know, Alistair. You've been a handful at times, but I've enjoyed it. I am very proud of you. Your father would have been proud of you, too." Duncan glanced toward Tess.

"Don't worry, she's not pregnant," Alistair joked. Duncan softly laughed.

"Just trust in your heart, Alistair. You have a good one."

"That's what Cailan told me. Right before he told me to marry her."

Duncan smiled again. "You and your brother are both wiser than you like to let anyone believe. In Peace, Vigilance, Alistair." Duncan put his hand over Alistair's heart. "Keep that with you always. Find a way to be at peace with all of your decisions, Alistair." He pulled Alistair in for another hug. "I am proud of you, son."

Alistair was nearly in tears when he went back to Tess. She didn't say anything. She just let him scoop her up and hold her for a moment.

He let her check his armor straps, and they made sure their belts and weapon sheathes were also just as secure. She was still glowing with relief by the time they set off for the tower, with her dog at her side.

"Yes, yes, it's been established I'm all yours for the night. You can wipe that triumphant smirk off your face now," he teased.

"It is _not_ triumphant," she retorted. He grinned at her. "Why? Are you going to take back your kiss?"

"How does one take back a kiss, exactly?" he asked. He was secretly just as relieved. His insides felt lighter, his head felt lighter just knowing he'd have a good deal of control over her safety.

"I am not telling you."

"So be it," he chuckled. "We've still got a fire to look at."

She was quiet for a moment. Then, "You _give_ a kiss, right?"

He grinned even wider in anticipation. "Yes…"

"So, taking one back would result in some sort of _sucking_ action." She over-pursed her lips so that her cheeks caved in, and her lips made a sound similar to an angry baby bird. Alistair laughed louder than he remembered doing all day. Relief, it seemed, was making him giddy.

"Well, all right then! Let me take it back!" He grabbed her hand, but she immediately pulled it back with large eyes and a squeaky _no!_ , and he only laughed again.

""We are on an important quest! And it would tickle like mad! You are _not_ supposed to tickle noble Ladies on important fire quests!" She couldn't contain her smile, either.

"You really think it will tickle?"

"That's all he heard," she stated flatly, as they walked around the narrow curve to enter the bridge.

His laugh was cut short with the sight of catapulted burning stones and flying burning arrows. Tess stood between Alistair and her dog, and the three of them just stared for a moment.

"How did this start already?" Alistair asked. He could even see arrows flying down below, from Cailan's troops far to the left of the bridge.

Po barked eagerly.

"Just like at the border, Po." Tesslyn patted her dog's head.

Po barked again.

"Yes, Par Vollen," she told her dog, giving a single nod.

"You're going to tell me that story tomorrow, right?" Alistair asked.

"If we survive the night, absolutely." She took a deep breath, and then sprinted like the Archdemon itself was chasing her.

Alistair and Po ran side by side behind her. A flaming rock smashed into the side of the bridge from below, and Alistair staggered. Po yelped as he lost all his footing and slid into the wall. Alistair scrambled over and pulled the dog to its feet. "Come on, pup!" he urged the hound. Heat from flaming arrows grazed them to the right as the barrage of archers sent another flying round.

Tess suddenly skidded to a stop and threw herself against the edge and leaned over. _"Cailan!"_ she screamed.

"What?" Alistair backtracked.

"There's a bloody ogre!" She screamed for the King again.

"Tess, he can't even hear you from down there." He spotted the ogre just then. Not close enough to the king's men or the Grey Wardens yet, but close enough.

"He can't fight an ogre, Alistair! He wasn't trained for that!" She readied her daggers and started to climb up on the edge of the bridge. Alistair immediately pulled her back down.

"Don't you dare!" He held on to her armor firmly. "That will _kill_ you! You are _not_ doing that to me! Not after you made me promise to come back for you!" They searched each others' eyes for a moment, and Alistair ducked as something on fire soared over them. "The only thing we can do is make sure that beacon gets lit! Cailan knew what he was doing when he placed himself in the thick of this battle!"

"But he's being an idiot -"

"That doesn't mean _you_ get to be! You wouldn't even survive the jump, Tess! _I'm_ the one who loses out if you jump!" he tried to make her understand. "Let's just get this beacon lit, and then we'll get down there." He released her, and made sure her breastplate was still tight and secure about her.

She winced angrily as she shoved her daggers back in their covers. " _Maker_! Why is my family so _stupid_!" she said through her teeth. She started to run again, but stopped again so short that Alistair crashed into her. Her dog literally did whatever Alistair did. "Wait!"

"What now?"

She searched all over from both sides of the bridge. "Where are Loghain's men?" She asked. " _Oh! That son of a bitch!"_ She screamed and kicked a barrel so hard it splintered open. " _Cailan_ is going to _die_ down there!" She was suddenly right in Alistair's face with her finger to his nose, fierce and determined with a fire in her eyes that he had not seen in her yet. She might as well have towered over him, with as small as she made him feel just then. "You had better be ready, boy!" And just as suddenly, she stormed away.

"What are you on about?" He chased after her, Po as his side once more.

"If that sodding arsehole cock-sucker has deserted Cailan -"

"Tess, the beacon hasn't been lit yet!" he tried to say.

"We should still see them, though!"

"You! You're Grey Wardens! Right?" a mage interrupted by running right up to them.

"No! Not anymore! I quit! I've got bigger problems, now!" Tess threw hear arms up and walked away. But a twitch of her head turned her right back around. "You have lyrium, yes?" She held her hand out to the mage, still wearing that angry-annoyed-deadly glare, with the occasional twitch of her jaw.

"I – yes, but there are Darkspawn in the tower!" the mage declared.

"I need it," she said firmly, but slightly more gentle. "A strong one. _Please_. In return, you take us up the tower, and I'll keep you alive." The mage looked so scared and confused that he toppled a potent lyrium potion in her hands without questioning why a non-mage would need it. Tess immediately uncorked it and emptied it into her mouth.

Alistair was beginning to understand her addiction better. Her anger fed it, but not just anger. Alcohol was like a substitute for her adrenaline, as far as lyrium was concerned. Whenever her adrenaline was high, she went through it quick. Fright and anger fed it worse, so far, and she was both right now. He was going to have to watch her closely.

"Stay close, mage." Tess threw the empty vial without looking. She advanced without waiting for the men, and the mage looked to Alistair for guidance.

"It's best to just follow her lead," Alistair told the mage.

Darkspawn were indeed overwhelming the tower. Spilling out of the tower was more like it. The entire courtyard was flushed, genlocks and hurlocks overwhelming what little Fereldan forces were there.

" _On,_ Po!" Tess whipped her daggers out in stance, and the mabari barked in approval. The duo ran over with seemingly no worry.

"Noble woman's trying to steal all my glory kills!" Alistair muttered to himself, though secretly pleased to get a chance to see her fight again. He readied his sword and shield, and charged. He intercepted Tess at a genlock with a bash so hard it sent the thing flying.

"Showoff," she said. He barely had time to smile before another genlock advanced. Tess unfolded her bow and shook it into place as Alistair took on the genlock. He sliced across its middle with a wide arc; it was good to feel his muscles tighten again, after having little chance to fight the day prior. He swung his shield up to force the squared steel rim into the genlock's face, twice, even a third time as hard as he could. He then brought the face of his shield down upon the distorted face before him with a heavy arm, cracking the skull so hard it crumbled.

"Oh…" she said distractedly. The mage shot lightning and ice from somewhere behind them, buying time for Alistair to see what Tess had stopped for. She was staring at Alistair with wide, wondrous eyes that searched him like she sought more of where that hard brutality came from.

The Darkspawn didn't allow for questions, though. Alistair pointed at her with his sword, grinning like a fool and very satisfied with himself for the moment. "We will _talk_ about that _look_ on your face, later!" he teased. He whirled around to ram his shield into a hurlock. An arrow flew so close to his heard that its wind brushed his ear and stuck through the hurlock's eye before Alistair could even strike.

"No, we wont!" she countered, instantly rejoining the fight. He couldn't wipe the grin from his face for the life of him.

Tess retrieved and re-used each arrow she shot, no longer using her daggers. Twice more, Alistair felt the breeze of her arrows tickle the side of his head, and once she missed his hand by a whisper. She was also kind enough to let him "show off," as she'd put it. He enjoyed charging, bracing himself with his shield and throwing his entire weight into his opponents like a battering ram. It also seemed like the more Tess saw him bash heads or send a body flying backwards, the more she wanted to see him do it. He caught her pausing quite a few times just to watch him swing his shield into Darkspawn.

But she slipped up. She gave away her vulnerability by watching him fight for too long. Alistair yelled her name when the genlock swung at her, but not with enough warning. She staggered as it the blade struck her from around the back. "Oh, you little -!" Again, a battle blow triggered the _Annihilate_ part of her _Fight or Flight_ instinct. She brought her bow arm around, but didn't bother stinging it with her bow. She settled for a straight bash from her hardened fist, followed by a high kick that dropped it face-first into the ground, where she straddled it from behind and stabbed in the back of the head until all that was left was a shattered, gory mess. Meanwhile, the mage threw fire balls and Po bit off legs in single chomps.

Alistair glanced over to make sure the fighting was a decent distance away, and then he bowed deeply to Tesslyn. "My Lady," he teased. She huffed a laugh and stood, wiping the riddled blood off her face with her sleeve before sheathing her dagger. He flashed her the grin that got him the most attention from the women during Templar training, and she pointed at him with her bow.

" _Ser_ , you are _evil_ tonight."

"I am feeling a bit feisty right now," he admitted, crossing to her in two swift, long strides. He flung his shield up around her, pressing into her from both sides as he hid her from an arrow.

" _Bugger!_ They can _shoot_ now?!" she hissed. She spun just a tad between his front and his shield and quickly snaked her arms up, rising to her toes. As she sent an arrow straight into the hurlock archer's neck, her bow arms over Alistair's shield and elbow over his shoulder, Alistair sang _'Pirate'_ near her ear. She sank back down flat feet with a bossy glare at his eyes, and he grinned _that grin_ at her again. She slid out of his embrace as if in a dance. "Do you know what I like about killing?" she asked in a sprint that ended with her leaping like a toe-dancer and cracking her bow upside hurlock heads like a whip.

"That was very graceful and erotic!" Alistair teased, advancing to join her.

"Erotic?" She nearly got hit in the face again trying to look back at him. He grinned in spite of the almost-tragedy.

"Let me guess, you like the thrill of surviving all the bad guys?" He arched away to avoid a low swipe to his gut.

"Do you realize you have an awfully vast vocabulary for a _Chantry_ boy?" she asked. He ducked a high swing and rammed his own hurlock like an angry tauren.

"Tess, now you're just avoiding your own question!"

"The control." She shot an arrow into the open mouth of the hurlock directly in front of her. She screamed for her dog and immediately reached into the hurlock's gaping, gagging mouth to retrieve her arrow. She twisted to shoot the neck of the hurlock about to slash at her hound. "The only part -" she ran to retrieve her arrow and fire upon a new target "of my life -" she shot another arrow between the arms of a genlock wielding an axe above his head, then retrieved it "where I can _-_ " she grunted as a hurlock with a shield hit her from the side; Alistair rushed in and pummeled it to the ground, bashing its face with the stock of his sword's hilt. Tess shot an arrow into its face underneath his hand. "-control how something ends," she finally finished, sending three arrows rapidly in a row toward a hurlock rounding on the mage.

"Much appreciated!" the mage called over in relief, hanging behind them a considerable distance from then on.

"Would you like to know a secret?" Alistair pulled her arrow out of the dead hurlock beneath him and held it out to her as she stood. "That's why I like it, too. Aside from, you know, surviving, and winning. I'm quite competitive you know," he joked. He caught a smile from her as he turned to retrieve the three arrows from the dead thing near the mage. "Still in one piece?" he asked the mage.

"For the moment," the mage said. "Are all Grey Wardens this violent?"

"One has to become more violent in order to sneak in a single kill around Lady Cousland," Alistair announced loudly. She turned with a sly smile.

"Oh, so _this_ is what noble Ladies do when no one is looking," the mage joked. Alistair and even Tess laughed.

"Darling, don't get ahead of yourself. I am the _only_ noble Lady entirely this fun!"

Alistair spied three more hurlocks and two genlocks advancing on the top of the staircase toward them. He ran over to Tess, pressed her arrows flat against her chest and his lips near her mouth. " _My_ kills!" he said firmly, and he ran off toward the Darkspawn before she could stop him.

"Erm, excuse me, Ser, but that was _not_ a proper kiss! You get back here and do that correctly, young man!" she yelled after him. Alistair pummeled hard, taking two down at once, his face frozen in a goofy grin. He looked up briefly as a genlock smacked flat on his back on the ground next to him and the two hurlocks he had pinned, an arrow through the middle of its forehead. While the hurlocks were distracted by this, Alistair forgot his sword and punched them both as hard as he could. The one under his left wasn't unconscious yet, so he stuck his sword down through its face as she stood. Po charged and rammed into the other genlock, knocking it off its feet, and tore at its neck until it stopped moving. The dog stopped momentarily to look at Alistair, looking proud, even probably grinning as if to say _Hey! Look! I did it too!_

"Good boy, Po!" Alistair praised, and Po barked happily before charging off again. Alistair took a step up to join Po at another incoming wave, but something like a kick – no, longer than a kick – Tesslyn soared over his head. Maker! She just used him as leverage to jump off of! Daggers out, she landed with a roll at the feet of three more Darkspawn, one at her back and two in front of her. From the ground, she sliced the legs of the one behind her, then she popped up with her right blade parallel to her arm. She stabbed the one behind her as she brought her arm back, and then flipped her wrist and sliced up through the neck and chin of one in front of her. The third, she grabbed by the head and brought it crashing into her knee. She let it stagger for a bit, then she kicked it squarely in the chest, and when she came over it, Alistair saw a desire in her eyes that he wasn't even aware existed in people. With her knees restraining its arms, she slid her dagger just deep enough into the face to draw blood. She dragged the blade slowly across the face. Alistair almost felt sorry for the thing as it thrashed about beneath this woman who had immense control when it came down to torture. It started screaming as her blade crept just a bit deeper, starting to descend across its…what might possibly be its nose.

Alistair picked up a fallen Darkspawn dagger and threw it into the face of a hurlock attacking Po, then he went to Tess and her…victim. He made sure her hands were out of the way, then he stuck his foot in and pressed hard on her dagger, ending the poor thing's misery. She rolled her eyes as he pulled her up by the arm. "You know, when you said you were an assassin, I _believed_ you. It's really not necessary to make me watch how you like to torture things. Really. I insist."

"Says He-Who-Smashes-Heads-to-Smithereens," she said back, retrieving her dagger, wiping it on the ground before sheathing it as Po and the mage finished off the last of the Darkspawn in the courtyard. "And….says He-Who-Just- _Kissed-_ This-Torturer," she said softly.

"You need lyrium." Her hands were shaking too hard to ignore with jokes or flirting. "Mage?" he called out. "Do you have anymore lyrium?"

"I -" the mage sighed. "Yes, of course I do. Why does someone like _her_ need it?"

"I dab it on my neck and on the inside of my wrists. Templars are addicted to the smell. They come running in flocks," Tess said.

"Always clever." Alistair accepted a bottle of blue liquid from the mage and opened it for Tess. "That last one went through you quick." His eye spotted something round and blue peeking out of a fallen genlock's purse.

"It tends to happen when I have fun," she said, watching Alistair head to the blue thing. He crouched to a squat to loosen the purse. He met her eyes as he held up the small bottle. She came to him and took it, staring at is as if in a trance. "Just one more thing I can't control. Even _seeing_ it gives me chills."

"We should check the other bodies for more. Just in case. We can worry about not taking it later," he told her gently, standing.

"We?" She still stared at the blue liquid.

"Yes, Tess. We." He went around to the Darkspawn bodies sprawled everywhere, and Daveth's voice sounded in his head, telling him to loot everything. He found a few coins, but he focused on lyrium potions. He collected three, and some of her arrows from the bodies down the stairs, and also an emerald and a ruby. "You've been on this stuff, what, nine years?" he asked, walking back up to her.

"Yes. It's a cursed leash that's constantly around my neck."

"I've seen how bad Templars get. They lose their minds after awhile," he said.

"At the Circle, if they start to lose it, we offer to take them to the Fade, and then end the body while they're inside," the mage added.

"They don't feel that?" Alistair asked.

"I have no idea if they do. One doesn't feel the body's hunger pains in the Fade, so I assume no, they can't feel their heads being dismembered. Not all of them accept, though. Most end up wandering city streets as hallucinating beggars."

"Templar or no, I've got a great future, eh? Tainted lyrium addict. I'll be lucky if I look half like myself in ten years," Tess said.

"If half like you is as bad as you get, I'm pretty sure you'll still be making jaws and trousers drop," Alistair said, only half-flirting.

She looked up at him. "No one just drops either around me."

"I didn't? Hm. Must have been daydreaming, then."

" _Funny_ little Templar."

"What?" he giggled. "You know exactly how gorgeous you are. Even when you kill things like scary madman."

"Even when I…" she trailed off, frozen as she knelt at a the body of a genlock mage.

"What? What is it?" Alistair went to her. She held an open leather sack, it sparkled deep blue, almost purple, giving off its own luminescence. Lyrium dust. He watched her stare at it. Those tiny grains literally had her paralyzed. "Take it, just in case. We'll dilute it."

She stared at it for another moment, then she tied it up and stood. "It burns," she said. "When the dust goes down, it burns. It feels like a bomb went off in your throat. It makes you head feel like its swelling, like your brains are about to burst out. Worst headache ever, worse than the Joining."

"Just one more thing to work on," he said softly. She blinked twice and looked up at him. "I'm keeping count," he joked, making sure his tone was obvious. "You have a tendency to jump off things – I may have to make you wings. You did it again, off _me_ of all things, just a bit ago." She shoved him gently and he laughed. "You like violence," he continued, "but I can probably just take you to a betting match, or something. You have an unholy obsession with blue stuff, _and_ you like to wander naked."

"I don't _wander_ naked," she said. "I went for a swim!"

"It was _very distracting_ ," he told her matter-of-factly, directly flirting now. She slipped him a small smile, and he grinned his best for her again. "Here." He took her hand and closed her fist around the two cut gems. "Something _new_ to look at. One to match your eyes, and one to match the color of your face right before you grabbed my bottom earlier." She smiled unsurely, but as soon as she saw the ruby she ducked her head in an embarrassed giggle that shook her shoulders.

"Erm, you _are_ planning to clear the tower, aren't you?"

Alistair laughed loudly. "I forgot we weren't alone!"

"I know you did." Tess smiled at him, then glanced at the mage. "Yes, we are."

As soon as they entered the tower, though, they found themselves in an ambush. Not directly in it yet, but they could see it. A whole squad of Darkspawn, including two genlock mages, what looked like six arches and swordsman, maybe more hiding from line of sight, spread out around. A tripwire was over the only way into the tower lobby. There's no way they could all go rushing in while Tess disarmed it, but if she went in alone to disarm it, she would be shot down. Tess fumbled with something in her purse while Alistair tried to peer from the shadows.

"What are you doing!" the mage hissed. Alistair turned to see her emptying the pouch of lyrium dust into her mouth, gagging while she tried to swallow it dry.

"Tess!" Alistair tried to knock the bag of dust out of her hand, but she had nearly finished it all; what was left glittered to the stone floor. "What are you doing?" She shrugged him off, managing to pull a spirit shard from her sack. Her eyes rolled lazily for a moment, but she shook that off too and stomped the spirit shard to splinters. She scooped it up and dropped those in her mouth, too, and chased it all down with that sickly-spoiled-cream looking stuff that was concentrator fluid.

It dropped her like a rag doll. But before Alistair could get down to help her, she writhed, even pulled at her hair, trying to balance on one arm. She wobbled on her way up, and Alistair supported her. "Dammit, Tess!" Her nose was bleeding from both nostrils, and her pupils were nearly her entire eye. She tried walking, but he held her steadfastly to him. "What are you doing!" he whispered.

"Dying to Loghain all over again." She did slip out of his hold this time, and she took off in a run. She ran right into the tripwire, and immediately jumped over the explosion. She had purposely stalled Alistair and Po and the mage.

"Dammit, Tess!" He cried in frustration. He readied his shield and charged into the flames, Po on his heels. He burst through to see Tess antagonizing the genlock mages, who were each summoning some sort of magic. The archers and hands didn't bother wasting their willpower or arrows on her, but as soon as they saw Po and Alistair, they swiftly turned. But Alistair's focus was Tess, to reach her and shield her with himself. She hadn't even bothered to draw her blades.

He hadn't needed to try to protect her, though, even as the genlocks threw spells at her. She seemed to be…absorbing the spells, actually. Lightning and fire seeped into her, swirling all over her surface, at first, like a sort of elemental armor. It crackled about her, like watching paint dry out in and chip during a really hot summer, but exclusively emergent. Whatever she was doing had stopped all combat. No one was moving, only staring at her. Alistair even shared an uncertain glance with a particularly tall hurlock.

The crackling upon her suddenly sucked in, like all the lightning and fire were all water in a street and being sucked down a drain. For a brief moment, not a single being in that room breathed. Then Tesslyn's hands lit up, and out of them came extensions of the same magic that had tried to kill her. Bolts of fire, crackling with blue and purple lightning flung from her hands like knives straight into the necks of the genlock mages, dropping them to the cold stone floor with gaping, self-cauterized wounds. Two of the archers aimed at her, but when she closed her fists around nothing at her sides, they were scooped up and crushed to nothing by giant flaming hands that disappeared the moment Tess' hands relaxed.

Alistair knew his wasn't the only one whose heart was racing.

The Darkspawn swordsmen charged at her. Tess cupped the air beside her; sparking flames cupped the swordsmen. Tess closed her hands and raised her hands; the Darkspawn swordsmen were enveloped and lifted near to the tall ceiling. She dropped her knees with a pound of her fists, and the swordsmen were slammed down on to the floor. Flames with blue and white highlights started crackling about her body again, and an arrow grazed her hair, the lightning and fire made her glare seem like staring down the Archdemon itself. She pounded her fists on the stone floor once more, clawed at it, and as she scraped her fingernails on the stone, the flames started to leave her again. All at once, the remaining Darkspawn archers aimed at her, and Alistair cried out. The floor rumbled, and as Alistair helped the mabari regain his balance, stone burst open and vents of fire and lightning bolts burst up like an upside-down rainstorm under the feet of the Darkspawn.

When the flames died out, Tess immediately swayed, and fainted, meeting the stone with a heavy thud and a bit of a crack. The Darkspawn settle to the floor in heaps of ash. Alistair threw down his shield and sword and rushed to Tess, sliding on his knees. "No, no, no! Tess, wake up!" He propped her up and held her against his chest, tilting her head back so he could check for breath and check her eyes. Her nostrils were still bleeding, but she was breathing through her nose. He pushed an eyelid up. Her pupils weren't dilating at all, no matter how many times he shaded and unshaded her eyes with his hands. _"No_ , Tess!" He looked up at the mage. "Can you do something? Heal her!"

"Er -" the mage hesitated, his eyes darting. He knotted his hands and unflexed them, and aimed a swirling mess of glimmering, ghostly cream at Tess. "It's only a surface heal, I'm afraid." He attempted the spell again, and Tess's chest rose in a deep breath.

"Oh, Maker!" Alistair laughed in relief. He hugged her tight to him. She murmured something about shattering, spinning, dizzy-something, and he searched her eyes. "What? Look at me, Tess. No, no, don't close your eyes. Tess?" He patted her cheek, and her eyes fluttered open again. Her clear emeralds kept drifting away, but it was obvious she was making an attempt to look at him.

"What kind of magic was that?" the mage marveled.

"N-not magic," she whispered. "Inv-inverse enchantment." Her eyes gave a long, slow blink.

"Stay with me, Tess. Come on, look at me. Look at my eyes," Alistair encouraged.

"I became the rune." She stared back in Alistair's eyes, training her eyes to focus again.

"Do _not_ do that again!" he pleaded. "You could have died."

"It was risky indeed," the mage agreed. "But nonetheless impressive. I see why it's not common practice. I'm not even sure its common knowledge, actually."

"Why did you do that?" Alistair brushed her hair off her face.

"I have to save the king," she mumbled.

"The king? You aren't making sense, Tess. Maybe you should stay here. I'll go watch them light the beacon. I'll be right back down before you know it," he promised.

"No," she said with effort. She pushed herself out of his arms, but her own were too unstable. Alistair caught her before she collapsed again. "I need…red…."

"Red?" Alistair asked. She held up her fingers a bit apart and tipped in the direction of her face.

"Oh! Potions! Yes! Healing potion!" The mage scrambled about a second purse on his belt, then handed Alistair a potent health potion.

"Thank you," Alistair told the mage, grateful for his kindness, and patience. He uncorked the tiny bottle and lifted Tess' head. She sucked it down like a babe to a bottle. She winced against him, and buried her face in the soft part of his armor. "I'm _starting_ to think you _want_ to be held," he teased her as she clung to his chestpiece.

"Piss off," she grumbled, "I just did something really amazing."

He laughed softly and just cradled her for a moment. But they couldn't linger, he knew that. "We have to get that beacon lit, Tess. And it may actually be _us_ lighting it, now that the Darkspawn are all over this place."

She lifted her head. "Oh? We get to do something exciting now?" she asked hopefully.

He smiled. "Very exciting. I'll even let _you_ light it."

"You are way too good to me, Alistair."

He let her try to stand up, but twice she wobbled. It came down to Alistair hoisting her up, supporting her around her waist with her arm over his shoulder. "You like it when I hold you, just admit it," he teased.

"Cocky little Templar," she muttered.

"I'm that bad, am I?" he laughed again.

" _You_ picked me _up_ , remember?"

"That I did. Have I mentioned you're distracting?" He squeezed the hand over his shoulder.

"It appears I'm more so when I don't try to be."

"By all means, don't try to be again," he flirted. She smiled, obviously still weak. "A living rune," he stated, keeping her close.

"Lyrium is good for runes."

"And…Loghain did that to you?"

"Yes. I am only good as rune with an overdose of lyrium. Without so much, I'm just…like a staff with no charge."

"Is this a bad time to make a joke about wood and splinters?" he joked. She giggled. "Okay, yes, beyond that. I will kill him. Stay right here, _don't move._ " He released her very briefly to secure his sword and shield, but just in that short time, her knees gave out. Her mabari stood firmly at her side to be her lean-to. "Good boy, Po." Alistair scratched behind the dog's ear as he collected Tess again. Standing with one arm around her waist again, Alistair hooked his shield at his back and sheathed his sword. "I am going to kill him," he repeated.

"I didn't want to marry Cailan. That was my price to pay."

"Because you didn't want to marry a man you didn't love, that gives him the right to take advantage of you and turn you into an addict? Are you really trying to justify him, Tess?"

"I do see things from his view. He was ensuring I couldn't change my mind and later back out of our contract. He was my employer, Alistair, and I was too young to care about my future."

"That's no excuse for his actions. You don't poison someone to turn them into a weapon _nor touch_ a woman inappropriately just so your own daughter can be queen. I mean, does he even know what he's turned you into? Does he know it almost kills you?"

"I appreciate your concern -" weakness cut her words short. Alistair had to brace himself so he could catch her dead weight.

"Tess, you need to stay here," he told her. "This isn't up for discussion. You can't even stand still."

"I- no. I have to go." She forced her fingers to close around his breastplate. "I am Lady Lyrium and I have to save my King," she whispered adamantly.

"As fun as that title is, _no._ You can't stand, you can't even hold on to me, and I'm pretty sure about an hour ago, you called Cailan _stupid_ , or something. There weren't supposed to be Darkspawn in here-"

"And you were worried this would be boring," she interrupted him with a tiny smile.

"Are you _always_ this much trouble?" he teased. He was very aware of how close they were, of her breath at his neck. The Maker sure had a sense of humor, placing this beautiful woman in his arms in these specific untimely situations.

"Sometimes I even cause it." She straightened her legs and took a deep breath, and took a step away from him. Alistair caught her again when she swayed.

" _Why_ do they think putting people in _love_ on the battlefield together is a _good idea?"_ the mage wondered. Alistair gave him a look-over.

"It's more effective than you think," Tess answered. "Wouldn't _you_ deal more damage if someone you cared about was in immediate austere danger?"

"Great. I'm already having trouble thinking around you," Alistair joked. But he silently wondered if he really looked in love, if _they_ looked in love. He supposed rushing to her when she fell and constantly worrying over her ability to breathe didn't help correct any assumptions.

"And to think I almost added a joke about watching you bend over to pick my arrows for me."

Alistair laughed, feeling his cheeks burn a little. "Now who's cheeky?" She didn't answer him. He watched her fumble at her purses with one hand. "What do you need?" he asked.

"Lyrium."

"Tess," his voice was flat. "Lyrium nearly killed you a moment ago."

She shook her head. "Lesser."

"And what if I give this to you, and you die? Right here, right now?"

"It hasn't killed me yet."

"It nearly did just a space over," he reminded her.

"We have to light the beacon. You can't even walk with me like this, and I am _not_ staying here. Give me both, red and blue."

He sighed. "I don't like this one bit." But he dug through her purses until he found a lesser lyrium potion and a decent health potion. He gave her the lyrium first, watching her carefully. When all she did was take a deep breath and sigh in relief, he put the vial of the health draught to her lips. She still didn't have enough strength, though. "Tess…"

She clung to his breastplate and rested her face against his. "Just…give me a moment please."

"We don't have anymore moments here, Tess." He could feel her brow drag against his skin. She took a deep breath and pulled back with a nod. He could feel the strain she put on herself to let go of him and try to stand on her own. "No, don't make it harder than it needs to be. Hold on to me," he urged. When she didn't, he took her arm and hooked it through his. "If we find anymore Darkspawn, hide. Stay out of sight. If you can use your bow, that's great, but I'd rather you hide."

"Alistair."

"It's safer if you stay out of sight right now. _Trust_ me to _protect_ you."

"It's not me I'm worried about," she said.

"Tesslyn," he said in a more commanding tone.

"Alistair," she mimicked his sound.

He sighed. "Women are impossible."

"So are little Templars."

The run through the tower was not easy. Alistair had to hid Tess a few times – set her firmly against a wall in shadow, so he could run around the corner and make it safe for her to drag her feet. The mage seemed to understand that they weren't going to speak about how Tesslyn was slowing them down. She regained a little more strength on the second level, enough to get in a few decent shot with her bow. She had a single berserk moment when her dog took a blow to his right hind leg, and she tackled the genlock that hurt Po. She stabbed it in the face and chest until it lie in shreds below her. Alistair had to pull her off the dead thing and assure her that Po was still alive, just a little bruised up inside. He certainly admired her tenacity when it came to trying to help people she loved.

Between the mage needing his mana replenished and Tess' single outbreak, they were quickly out of lyrium before they'd even reached the top floor where the beacon was. There just wasn't enough lying around to replace what they'd used up, which meant the mage wasn't nearly as effective, and now with Po wounded and Tess starting to withdrawal again, Alistair was the only real source of damage anymore, even with the help of the Grey Wardens' mabari collection on the third floor. Alistair was supporting Tess by the waist again. He could see her focus slipping. She was barely able to hold on to him.

On the short six-step staircase up to the top of the tower, Tess slid out of his grip and into where the railing met the door frame. He quickly dropped to recover her. "I've got you," he assured her. For some reason, she kept trying to stand independent of him, despite how she lacked the coordination and couldn't see straight. "Tess, I'm _here. Lean_ on me," he insisted. He pulled her back into his arms and stood, keeping her pressed against him. Her head swung back like a floppy doll's head.

A sharp roar on the other side of the door brought her eyes straight to his. For a single moment, they stared at each other. Po growled through the pain of his broken leg. No words were needed to tell Alistair what was just a few paces away. Praying he was wrong – _please let me be wrong! -_ he slowly pushed the door open. The ogre was right in front of the beacon's furnace, eating what looked like a human leg. It didn't seem to entirely see them, or maybe didn't register them as possible threats, yet.

"No darkness…nor death either…" Tess chanted breathlessly of the Canticle of Trials.

As quietly as he could, Alistair set Tess on the second step, in the corner, hopefully out of sight of the ogre. "Stay here," he whispered to her. She tried to say his name, but he shook his head and quietly shushed her. "Just stay here, Tess. Don't talk, don't move, just…Please," he breathed. He let his forehead rest on hers just for a moment; too short a moment. He put his lips to her face, and stood, looking at the mage, readying his sword and shield. The mage nodded through a deep breath.

Brave, loyal Po ran with Alistair, keeping up remarkably well for a broken leg. Alistair ran as fast as he could, his shield out in front of him. He wanted to end this thing before it had time to wheel around and attack. He threw his entire weight into the ogre's leg, trying to knock it off it's feet, though it barely staggered the monstrosity. Sparks above his head told him the mage was pulling his share.

Alistair dodged a swipe from a very large hand, and he heard Tess choke out his name. He swung his sword into a massive leg, and Po closed his jaws around the other leg. Bursts of pale blue exploded above Alistair's head as the mage shot bolts of ice at the beasts ugly head.

Tess was cringing on the floor away from the door, coming into the room, and Alistair made the mistake of looking over too long. As clumsy as the ogre was, it managed to sneak a claw under his shoulder piece, and his entire shoulder and upper arm, even part of his chest burned. Tess managed to choke his name out, and instantly he knew why. Darkspawn were approaching. Not close enough, yet, probably a good floor or two below them. But they were certainly on their way. The Taint in Alistair's veins buzzed all inside him, buzzed as it left the inflamed wound at his shoulder.

"Light the beacon!" he ordered the mage. "Now!"

In just that short time it took to say those small words, the ogre turned its attention on Tess.

"No!" Alistair yelled. He drove his sword straight down into the ogre's foot. The ogre roared and turned and swiped. Alistair yelled through his teeth as the giant claws sliced clean through his armor across his sword arm and his side.

Tess was suddenly right there, a dagger in the ogre's gut. She stuck it with her other dagger, and again, and again, climbing up the front of that colossal creature. Alistair's very breath revered her. For her to muster that kind of strength just to help was a miracle, and she was doing it for _him_. He respected no one more. He respected her control over the very worst part of herself to show him honor, and in return he was deeply humbled.

Alistair and the mage delivered another blow each, ice from above while Alistair's sword stuck clear through the giant leg. The ogre reacted by plucking Tess off its chest, and her scream was instantly broken by a squeeze of the massive hand.

It was as if the Maker Himself reached inside of Alistair in that moment and lit a fuse. Alistair was aware that we was swinging his sword under the determination to not let this thing claim Tesslyn. But it wasn't really him. He saw his own fight as if he was someone else watching him. It wasn't really him when the arm crushing Tess flew off in bloody spurts of however many hacks. It wasn't him who stabbed into the gut and twisted the sword. It wasn't him who drove his sword into its kneecaps until the thing stumbled. It certainly wasn't him who jumped through the air and shoved his sword through the face, who continued to stab the face even after the thing fell still to the floor.

But was Alistair who dropped his weapon and shield to reach Tess. He had to cut the ogre's thumb off of the already-severed arm just so he could free her, and he had to rotate the hand so he could even remove it. Its claws had pierced her back, and she bled liberally when they were out.

Each breath was wet and brought up blood. He gathered her in his arms and kept her upright against him. She was trembling again, a mixture of withdrawal and – he hated to admit it – blood loss, too much blood loss. But she was looking at him. That was a good sign, right?

"Craz-z-zy b-beautiful ma-man-n," she tried to say. "I'm s-s-sor-"

"No, don' t do this. This isn't goodbye, Tess." But he could hear the horde of Darkspawn now. They were close enough to hear the clank of armor clapping on stone.

She raised a bloody hand up to his face and her fingers trembled at his mouth. Her eyes closed, and he gently shook her head. "No, Tess! Do _not_ die on me! No one is dying today!" he ordered her. Alistair looked around. The mage had lit the fire. Po was bleeding from his back and limping horribly. He turned back to his friend in his arms. "Tess! _Please!"_ He patted her cheek until her eyes opened. "Stay with me," he told her.

"In d-death-th, s-s-sac-crifice-s-s…" she whispered.

"No! I will not allow it!" he said. "Do not leave me!"

"Alis-s-s-s-s-s-" she couldn't make out his name.

Darkspawn came crashing into the room, literally tumbling over each other in the doorway. Alistair put his lips to Tesslyn's forehead as he gently laid her down. He grabbed his sword and shield and he stood in front of Tess. Po limped over and stood next to him, a hind leg and a front leg broken, a gash between his shoulders and on his head, faithfully willing to protect his mistress no matter what.

"To the death, Po," Alistair told the firm warrior. They were both prepared to die trying to protect her.

The mage quickly disappeared under an arm of the horde that swarmed in. It didn't take long for Alistair to lose sight of Po, either. Burning steel ripped into Alistair's shoulder like a flame from hell, and something gashed his face, quickly followed by a slice to his sword-arm.

It took even less time for everything to fade to black.


	6. The Last Two Grey Wardens

Alistair awoke to find himself in the presence of the Witch of the Wilds. Before he had time to start demanding anything, Flemeth told him that he and the girl, and accidentally the dog because it had gone to die on its mistress, were all "here" and safe. The dog was pretty much healed, Alistair was pretty much healed, and the girl was inside being treated for more severe injuries. Alistair and the dog were _not_ welcome inside under any circumstances. The old woman told him Loghain's troops pulled out as soon as the beacon was lit. An ogre had crushed Cailan "like a tomato," she said. Duncan had died by an axe to the head right after killing the ogre that killed Cailan. Tess had been right about Loghain.

So Alistair waited, for days. He lost count after watching three or four sunsets, or was it sunrises? They all started to blur together. Po, with hardened bandages on his right hind leg and front left leg, sat next to Alistair. After a few days, when Flemeth took off Po's bandages and also the bandages pretty much all over Alistair's torso, he asked if he could see Tess. He was denied again. He didn't mean to blow up on the old woman, but he did anyway. He couldn't help his anger. If Tess was really alive, there would be no harm in letting him see her. She was all he had left, and the Witch held this over him. He stormed off into the woods with his sword and shield – _the Witch could save his sword and shield but not Duncan?_ Po trotted right next to him, determined to belong to someone.

Alistair wasn't sure how long they were out there. The Witch's shack wasn't very far, but it was hidden from view by trees and brush, and he was grateful. Alistair made a makeshift camp of sticks and rocks and moss, and he and the dog cuddled up to each other underneath the pathetic roof each night in front of the fire he'd miraculously been able to start with his sword and a rough rock. Po caught a couple rabbits and a small fox over the course of their time out there.

Maker, what was going on? Tess' question from that first night, on the edge of the overlook, came to mind: _Do you think the Maker would do all this just to punish someone?_ Did he deserve all this? _Did_ he?

Finally, a place he felt at home – destroyed.

The only people he considered family – even his real brother, though the only family moment they'd ever shared was Cailan's goodbye – dead. All of them.

His mentor/father -dead.

The one person he felt compelled to fight to the death for – as good as dead, or possibly dead and the Witch just wasn't telling him.

The only thing he had left was someone else's dog and the mercy of two apostates who had mysteriously rescued them from the murderous Darkspawn.

It was all very depressing.

The Templar in Alistair did not trust these apostates. Tess certainly hadn't approved of Flemeth before. Yet here they were, Tess confined up in that tiny shack and him confined to stay outside of it.

All he needed was to see her, to make sure she was alive. He was willing to take care of her, to dress and clean whatever wounds she had, to feed her, anything. He just needed to make sure she was alive and safe. That short time – Maker forgive him – that single day he'd had with her had made every other day in his life worth it. It was like she was the product of all his patience and determination and willingness to do better. And just like that, she was gone. His last memory of her was of her bleeding and trying to keep her eyes open long enough to stammer his name.

 _Alissssss…_

He dreamed about her, and Cailan. The ogre had Tess. It was swinging her and crushing her. It squeezed her so hard she broke completely in two, but when he went back for the body parts, she had turned into Cailan, with a bloodied goofy grin on his face, hissing name his out just like Tess' last attempt: _Alissssss…_

He woke from the dream by his own scream, nearly throwing the dog away from him before he even realized it had just been a dream and that he was awake now. He was so scared when he came to that he just sat and cried so hard his whole body shook. He cried so hard he gave himself a headache that nauseated him, and after he'd run out of tears, he spent the rest of the day vomiting even after he had nothing left to spit up but bitter yellow bile. He didn't remember passing out, but he woke up near his sour vomit, with Po immediately on the other side, warming him. He buried his face in the dog, and woke up again later to see a sunrise….or sunset? He wasn't sure.

Po followed him to a patch of swamp water that didn't look too murky. After testing the water with a stick, he crouched down and scooped up water in both hand, and he threw it over his arms and face, rinsed out his mouth. He pulled off his shirt, then his pants and smalls – _where in Andraste's name did the Witches get mens clothes?_ \- and washed himself, and his hair. He even tried to wash Po, but the dog was having nothing to do with it. The clothes dragged along his damp skin when he redressed.

He stood at his lousy makeshift camp for quite a while. He didn't want to stay here. He didn't want to spend the rest of his days in nightmares and vomit and headaches. He didn't want to be so scared that he became dysfunctional and could only cry. He wanted Tess back.

With one look in the direction of the apostates' shack, his feet took him, grabbing his sword and shield on his way out. He would see Tess one way or the other, whether the Witches wanted him to or not.

Po barked questioningly.

"I'm going to get Tess," he told the dog.

Po gave a happy bark and joined him, tail wagging.

"Do you suppose the sneaky apostates are telling the truth? That she _is_ alive?" he asked.

Po barked hopefully.

"Yeah, I hope so too."

Po barked in question.

"I am _not_ in love!" he protested.

Po barked accusingly.

"I _am not!_ " Alistair defended himself.

Po cocked his head with a little whine.

"That won't work on me. She's my friend, that's it." He paused. "Even if she _is_ a goddess."

Po gave a short bark.

"I am not a liar! Hey! Where are you going?" he called as Po took off with another bark. Alistair's stomach flew into his neck as soon as he stepped into the clearing where the shack stood, and he knew why Po had run off.

Tess was standing outside, with both Witches. She was wrapped in some kind of sheet or shawl.

She was alive. Alistair had done so much to save her. He had tried so hard to make sure she would live. His insides tumbled in relief that it had been worth it to let her alone instead of holding her in what he had feared were her last moments.

She kept his gaze as he walked straight to her. The closer he became the faster her eyes searched. He wrapped her up and held her tight against him, and she let out a shaky breath. "I thought you were dead!" he whispered. His eyes watered when she closed her arms around him, and he buried his face in her shoulder. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here when you woke up! I was so mad! They wouldn't let me see you!" He held her even tighter. "I can't lose you, Tess." He pulled back enough to put his head to hers. "Maker! I am _so sorry!_ I should have been here!" He put his mouth to her forehead, and before he knew it, he was planting little kisses all over her face, not stopping, not breathing. He wasn't sure what he was trying to accomplish, but it just felt like it had to be done, before there was no longer time for anymore kisses.

"Alistair," she said with a sigh. He squeezed her all over again. It felt so good to hear her say his whole name. Maybe now the nightmares would stop. Her face turned in a bit, and for a moment, they just stood there hugging.

"How do you feel?" he asked, pulling back just enough to see her face.

"I don't feel so bad, considering what happened," she answered.

He rubbed the back of her arms, and her shoulders curled in toward him. "You're not shaking, for the moment."

"What about -" she started to speak, then her eyes went wide, and she scrambled around his arm to pull up his shirt. It tickled when she touched his side over what were now fresh scars, and he squirmed a bit.

"I wasn't nearly so bad as you," he told her.

"Unfortunately the rest of us don't have time to watch the remaining two Grey Wardens strip each other!" Flemeth let them she was still there.

"What do you expect me to do?" Tess turned out of Alistair's hold to face the elder witch. "I've got no weapons, no money, no armor, no clothes -"

"You're naked under there?" he said the words before he even realized he was so curious. Tess paused, turned her head to look at him as if she didn't know to respond, then she turned back to Flemeth.

"I've got nothing," she continued. Alistair turned his head as a smile spread on his face.

"You have the treaties," Flemeth reminded. "You're lucky your man, here, kept the scrolls in his backpack, hidden under his armor."

"Scrolls do not make for durable clothing," she said all too seriously. Alistair didn't know if he was giddy from relief, but he felt like giggling.

"You know what I'm talking about," Flemeth said.

"Because the dwarves are going to drop what their doing and join me when I walk into Orzammar naked."

"I would," Alistair chimed in, forcing back a giggle.

"You already have," she reminded him. "My _point_ is, I couldn't take a single tower with an experienced, armored Grey Warden and an experienced mage _and_ a war dog. _How_ can I do _more_ with _less?"_ she asked. "I haven't been a Grey Warden long enough to know what to do!"

"You've already been trying to do more with _much_ less," Flemeth said mysteriously, staring at Tess.

Tess frowned and stared back. She glanced at Alistair, then back to the old woman. "How do you even know about that?"

Flemeth laughed. "Oh, I know more than that, girl!"

Tess frowned in conflict. "This is different. _This_ isn't just about finding support for a king. The Treaties designate obligation for sacrifice in war!" she said adamantly.

"What king? Are you talking about Cailan?" Alistair looked to both women.

They openly ignored him. "But you've done all _that_ on your own, more often without even your hound."

"Again, I was not asking people to leave their families to _die_ _painfully._ And, mind you, still no clothes!" She flung off the sheet around her. Alistair tried to keep her nudity out of his sight.

"What are you doing?" Morrigan asked when Tess ripped a wide strip from the sheet.

"It's better to just let her have at it, when she's upset," Alistair explained.

"I'm making clothes. I can't even walk into Lothering for a job with my blooming blushies out in the open for everyone to see."

Alistair felt his cheeks and ears flush, but he giggled anyway. "I think you should _try_ ," he encouraged.

"Hold this." She shoved the sheet into his hand, and he looked down to see her unsheathing his sword.

"Mother!" Morrigan protested.

"Let her!" Flemeth laughed. "I'm curious to see how this will turn out."

"The Orleasians wear less with no actual stitching half the time. It should be easy," Tess narrated.

Alistair giggled again. "Orleasian men, maybe."

She gave him a double-take. "Then give me _your_ clothes, and I'll make _you_ the loincloth."

Sweet Maker! He was embarrassed, even more so by the thought of walking around so exposed. "I am really glad you're awake," he joked.

"Because it's your _dream_ to run around collecting war allies in your bulging skivvies?" she asked in pretty good pretense innocence.

He ducked his face into the sheet and hid his face in the cloth. "Yes. I am so thrilled I have you to help me achieve that!"

"Speaking of Orleasians," Flemeth interrupted, "what did they have to say about your kingly quest?"

"I make a convincing argument when I have to. Celene agrees that Fereldan can do better than Cailan while he's under the influence of Loghain." She paused and raised her head. "Bugger. I have to go find his body."

"Not dressed like an Orleasian!" Flemeth laughed.

"Wait, you were planning on overthrowing Cailan?" Alistair looked at Tess.

"So I just let my cousin's body rot?" she said to Flemeth, ignoring him again. "He may have been an idiot -"

"That seems to run in the family," Morrigan interjected.

"- But he was still family. And…considering the alternatives at the time of Maric's death, Cailan was somewhat decent. He could have been a lot worse." She paused again with a frown and a stare at no one, and Alistair suspected she was remembering Cailan's goodbye.

"This Treaty of yours," Flemeth brought the conversation back.

Tess remained ripping and cutting fabric, and holding it up to cut more. "Talk to Alistair about it. He's the real Grey Warden, not me."

"Lovely. Thanks for that," he said sarcastically.

"You are both Grey Wardens, girl."

"No, I'm not. I'm just a recruit who happened to survive the Joining. I _failed_ at the Grey Warden part, didn't I? The Blight still goes on. The Warden-Commander is dead. I _failed._ I've been too busy contemplating suicide because I just my entire family, only to be magically talked out of it, only to reunite with a traitor who scarred me for life, _and_ I forgot to monitor my lyrium withdrawals and nearly died for it which it nearly cost me the life of the ki-" she cut herself off. " _that."_

"That wasn't the least bit suspicious," Alistair said.

"The point is _I failed._ If it hadn't been for you," she told Flemeth, "everything I've done in the past would have for naught."

"But you alive. So it wasn't a waste," Flemeth said with a smile tugging at her mouth. Tess just stared back at the old woman, still completely nude during such a serious conversation.

Tess dumped a pile of cloth on to Alistair, and he moved it off his head to see her tying a wide strip of cloth like a very thin pair of small-clothes around her hip. "There is also the matter of Loghain Mac Tir." She spiraled the cloth up one thigh and then up past her hips.

"Unite the land first," Flemeth said.

"It's easier to unite Templars and mages, trust me. Do you know how many bastard babies are born in the Circle each month?" she joked.

"I wonder how many of those gets sent _back_ to the Circle after they, I don't know, set the banners with Andraste's Star on fire?" Alistair speculated.

She grinned up at him. "I'd _pay_ to see the look on the Mothers' faces when that happens."

He laughed. "Me too!"

Tess wrapped her other thigh, now, winding up around just like with the other leg but in the opposite direction. When her entire torso was wrapped, save for her breasts which were obviously a bit chilled from the breeze, she took the two loose ends and crossed them, one over each bosom, tying them together behind her neck. Alistair found he couldn't stop staring at her breasts, especially when they gave a little bounce as she jerked the cloth into a knot.

"Do…they teach you to do that in assassin school?" he asked.

She tied the remaining cloth at her waist like a – devilishly – short dress. "A male Antivan Crow trained me…so, I suppose you could say that."

"I…am going to need to walk in front of you…" Her breasts really did hang quite nicely like that. The blush of her nipples showed more or less though the fabric, as did the clear advancement of her little perts themselves.

"I'm good with that. There's a fine view from behind you."

His hand instantly covered his face. "I'm leaving." He blushed furiously, he could feel the rush of heat in his face and ears, even his neck. He literally turned and walked right into the shadow of a group of trees, where he could fluster out of earshot and out of arms-reach from her.

Oh, Maker, the dog was right. He was crazy for this girl. He watched her as she talked with both Morrigan and Flemeth. Even her expressions were perfect. The way wisps of her pale hair fell down the side of her face and neck, and the way her breasts lifted with her shoulders as she gave a look of barbed query, Maker, even her scowl was perfect. From this angle, he could see her buttocks wiggle a little when she shifted from one foot to the other, and the small pouch between her navel and her privates completed the roundness of her hips. She was just…there. Waiting to be -

 _No!_ He buried his face in his arms, ashamed for trying to fondle her with his eyes. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the rising heat of his groin. Really? He lost everything, even his home, and he immediately lusts on the one person who has lost more than he has?

When he lifted his head, Morrigan was throwing her arms up. She disappeared into the house, and Tess came over to him. "Good work insulting the swooping witch," he said.

"Don't say that too casually." She sat next to him. "Flemeth wants her to come with us."

"What?!" he cried softly. He groaned when he looked at her. "Ugh, you said _yes_ , didn't you?"

"She can _heal_ , Alistair.'

"And she can also poison us."

" _I_ can poison you."

"But I trust you. I don't trust them." He sighed and roughly ran his fingers through his hair. "So, what? We just go tromping off to Orzammar and the Circle and Redcliffe? With an apostate? She doesn't exactly blend in with normal people."

"Neither of us are normal, Alistair."

"We're obviously not mages, is what I'm trying to say. Apostates aren't held in high regard."

She sighed. "Well, I have to go see Eamon anyway."

"Arl Eamon?"

"Yes." She groaned, "Isolde will be there!"

"Great," he said unenthusiastically.

"I need to stop by Rainesfere and speak to Teagan, too."

"I always liked Teagan," he commented.

She smiled a little. "Me too. I was eight when I first heard my mother talk to him about marrying me. I still remember exactly how he was standing, how his hair was lying. He looked down at me, and said _'she's a bit short.'_ He _broke_ my heart to _pieces_. I used to play pretend that he was King and I was his Queen," she recalled with a dreamy look on her face.

"You and Teagan?" Alistair really didn't like this idea. But he didn't want to let on that he was jealous. "Well…It's been fifteen years."

She shook her head with a glance that suggest it was a cute notion, but never going to happen. "He disapproves of my killing hobby. But he was working with me on Orlais and Seheron."

"Working? Working on what? The _king_ thing?" he eyed her.

She did a double-take at him, then frowned and held his chin. "Blast, Alistair! Your face!"

"That was subtle and encouraging."

"Don't play daft. Your _scar_!" She turned his face and peered so close he could feel her breath on jaw.

"My what? Oh, right. She said I got hacked in the face," he told her. She traced the scar, from his hair line diagonally down his forehead, curving down around his nose to his right cheek. "I didn't realize it had been that bad."

"She healed it well. I couldn't see it in the direct light. But it reflects under here." She looked troubled by his scar.

"I'm fine, really," he insisted. He took her wrist and gently removed her hand from his face. "Bann Teagan's a good man."

She searched his eyes curiously. "He is, but that life passed me up long before I was able to realize what I might have missed out on." She hesitated, then her brow pushed toward her hair. _"You kissed me. A lot of times_."

He laughed and hung his head in his embarrassment. "I have never been so relieved to see someone alive." He looked at her. "You are the first woman I've ever kissed. You know that?"

"I – _naturally_ , the first time to do it is _forty times in a row_ ," she teased with a shrug. He laughed quietly, glad it was just her with him for this conversation. "I think it's a sweet first kiss. But…"

"Uh-oh. Here comes the _'I'm just not into you'_ speech," he joked.

" _No_ , actually I'm pleasantly surprised with how you're turning out," she told him.

"What did you think I'd be like?"

She wasn't looking at him again. "A blabbering incompetent idiot. Like Cailan, but with a piss-poor vocabulary."

"Says the noble woman who speaks fluent pirate,"he teased, smirking.

She grinned. "I'm a hypocrite, I know. But, I approve of you." She lost her smile, but seemed neutral still. "What I recall of you when I was at my worst was a man who proved quite honorable, despite the conditions."

"I'm still sensing there's an ' _it's not you, it's me'_ coming up," he predicted. "But you needn't bother. I am perfectly fine with just being your friend. That's all I wanted from the beginning anyway." He met her eyes. "Is there anything wrong with just being friends?"

"You did kiss me forty times," she reminded with a nod.

" _I_ will keep count next time, thank you," he joked. She smirked. "Is it _wrong_ to love a friend for just being a friend?"

She searched his eyes. "Regardless, you may resent me when we find Teagan."

"Adding _Possible Future Resentment_ to my list. It's right underneath _Don't Annoy Her_ and _Get Out of the Way When She's Angry_ ," he played.

She giggled. "A wise list. But friend or no, you still kissed me. Forty times," she insisted.

He mused, trying not to look too smug. "And somebody liked it," he flirted.

"I admit nothing." Her violent smirk rosy-ed her cheeks, and he laughed.

He watched Morrigan walk back out with a shoulder-hung sack and a mage's staff. "Do you really think this is wise?" he asked, neither of them seemingly in a hurry to get moving.

"No. But what are our options? I mean, yes, we can fight, but I'm a wreck of a lyrium addict. I _still_ see my _father_ lying in his own blood every time I close my eyes, and my nephew…Neither of us has a home to go to. We've no coin – I mean, if we want to brave Howe's men at Highever, I've got a chest that only _I_ can open with ridiculously valuable things inside. Otherwise, no coin, no clothes, no weapons, no armor. Just us, against all of Fereldan and the Darkspawn. Do you know what I think?" she asked in anticipation with big eyes.

"What do you think?" he asked her.

" _I_ think the Maker's blasting sodding bored up there! A _Chantry_ boy and an _assassin_ team up to be the mighty Heroes of Fereldan?"

He smiled, eager to hear the rest of her tale.

"That sounds like an Orleasian puppet play! You've got the assassin on this hand -" she held up her left hand like a sock puppet "- Shaking like mad and trying to slaughter everyone -" she whipped her hand about like a drunken bumblebee. Alistair couldn't help but laugh. "And then there's the Chantry boy-" she held up her right hand in front of him " _giggling_ in battle -"

Alistair giggled in a mixture of embarrassment and humor, hiding his flush in her arm.

"- trying to command the assassin through his giggles, going ' _No! No! Kill the turts! NO! The SWOOPING turts! The swooping one!'"_ she said this very fast, and he couldn't stop laughing, especially at her impersonation of him. She looked at him flatly. "We're _doomed_ , Alistair."

His shoulders shook, he was laughing so hard. "At least we'll die having fun!" He whined though a laugh as his side hurt with the sudden strain of giggling so hard. "I think I need to find some toys to play with."

"Toys?…as in…prison cuffs and feathers?" she asked with incredible interest.

He froze, staring at her, his mind suddenly wiped clean. "I…what?"

She looked a little sheepish – only a little. "I'm sorry. I know better, with a Chantry boy."

"Prison cuffs, huh?" he pondered this. "How?"

She grinned. "Four, normally. Hook them to bed posts."

"Maker…" His eyes rocked back and forth in thought, trying to imagine himself so vulnerable.

"Toys. _Children's_ toys, Alistair." She grinned still.

"Hm?" he met her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm a little bit distracted…you had me at prison cuffs."

She hesitated and turned her face away. Then, "Maybe one day."

"You are right. _We_ are _doomed_. Fereldan will not be able to depend on me. Not when you're around," he joked, still a little absentminded.

"Even better. Beware, Archdemon! I come alone!" she declared with a smirk.

"Oh, I'll be following," he assured her, "mind you, it might be a tad close to your back side." He couldn't believe he was flirting like this. Maker save him! This woman did strange things to his insides.

"You seemed to do find on the bridge," she encouraged.

"You couldn't see it from up ahead, but your hound was dragging me. I had teeth marks in my collar," he joked. But the image of the bridge brought back the moment after the bridge, when she bargained the mage his safety for lyrium.

"He's a good helper."

"Tess…" he looked at her, suddenly done with all that risque talk. "What are you going to do about your lyrium problem? It's going to take us three days to get to Lothering. We'll _have_ to camp at sundown, there's no way we can get there by tonight."

She stared at nothing. "I'm just going to have to try to wean again. _Balls!_ " she scoffed. "There are going to be some long nights."

He remembered her in the tower. He remembered her unable to stand, unable to look at him, having to lay her down in shadows to hide her each time they encountered more Darkspawn. Glimpsing her try to yell for him with a voice so broken he could barely hear her, watching her inch across the floor. He worried for her. "Tess," he said. He turned her face toward him. "Remember I'm here. Please. I'll do whatever I need to help."

"This isn't your addiction, Alistair."

"It almost was. I was days away from finishing my training. They would have had me coming for regular doses. I was _so_ close. I've seen what it does to you, Tess. I…I honestly don't know how to say this without sounding like I'm overly-attached already, but watching what it did to you was scary for me. Having to try to hide so you would be safe because that stupid blue drink turned you into a rag doll scared me. I can't begin to imagine what it does to your insides when you're like that." He hesitated. "I _think I_ would want help."

Flemeth called out to them, and Alistair sighed. "And so we start our gypsy parade." He got to his feet and held his hands down.

"I do not deserve you, Alistair," she said as he pulled her up. Standing on slightly higher ground put her just about as his height.

"It's not about what anyone deserves or doesn't. It's what we _need_ , isn't it?" he asked.

She cocked her head with a quizzed frown. "I've had more than my share of men, so…the Maker sends me a _Chantry_ boy?"

He grinned.

"He's a bit of a _cheeky_ Maker, if you ask me. He could've just written me a note."

Alistair giggled. "So what does that say about me? A Chantry boy meets a woman who carves up Darkspawn and becomes a rune?"

"I think maybe He gave you a way to cure your boredom. _Or_ He's trying to tell you to work on your _medic_ skills."

"That explains everything that's happened since we met!" he laughed.

"I suppose we'll just wait for the Blight to destroy itself?" Flemeth barked.

"Yes! That will do nicely, actually! Saves _me_ a lot of trouble!" Tess countered without hesitation, leaning around Alistair.

"I like that plan," he agreed.

"Yes. It gives me time to get some proper clothes and weapons and -!" she gasped loudly with large eyes and her hands flew to her face. "My bow!" she whispered.

He winced. "I am truly sorry, Tess. Is it possible to make another?"

"Yes," she sighed, looking forlorn. "And now, witches."

" _Swooping_ witches, at that." He turned around. "Just so you know, when we do stop for camp, I'm sleeping with you. _Far away_ from her."

"Even if I sleep naked?" she tested.

"I've seen you naked," he reminded her. "A few times, already."

"Could you sleep next to me if I'm naked?"

He thought about this. "You…might wake up to being groped, but yes. After awhile, I would _eventually_ fall asleep."

Her cheeks flared up shyly and she pushed him. He could only laugh.

After an uncomfortable goodbye between the two witches, Flemeth sent them all off with all she had to spare: two bed mats rolled up, a thick fur rug, tiny bundles of rolled furs and wool blankets, and then a few small cakes, aside from what was in Morrigan's sack

A few paces out of the swamp, and Alistair realized his Grey Warden wasn't wearing any shoes. "Tess? Would you like my boots?" he offered.

"Your feet are nearly twice as big as mine, though!"she marveled, glancing at their feet.

"Would you like me to carry you, then?"

"To Lothering?" she said skeptically.

"You're going to ruin your feet," he said.

"I've gone barefoot before."

"You've walked barefoot for days before?" he quipped.

"…Around my family's castle…as a child…" she said unconvincingly.

He laughed. "Same thing, right? Well, let me know when you realize your toes are filthy."

"I actually go barefoot when it rains. I love it," she told him.

"Barefoot in the rain," he pondered.

"Usually naked, too."

"Don't you get cold?"

"Not really."

"Huh. Even in winter rain?" He was truly curious about this. He loved the rain.

"Not so much winter rain. Warmer rain. Summer, autumn, late spring. This time of year is best, when it's starting to get hot but still cool at night? The clashing temperatures bring lightning and thunder. It takes my breath away."

"That's very poetic," he approved.

"You thinks so?" she asked.

"I do think so. And I like the rain, too. I love thunder."

"Do you two _ever_ stop talking?" Morrigan complained.

"Not when we're together, "Alistair answered. "Except maybe when we're asleep. I don't know. Tess, do I talk in my sleep?" he looked down. His fingers accidentally brushed hers, and he was shocked at feeling so shy about it. He pulled his arm in tight and walked a step further away. It didn't seem to bother her, though.

"I do not know," she said pensively. "I was drunk that first night, and unconscious for the rest."

"You should watch me sometime to find out," he joked.

"Watch you when you sleep?" she echoed.

"Yes! I want you to watch me when I sleep so you can tell me if I _talk_ while I'm sleeping!" he animated his voice more.

"That is…the most _innocent_ proposition I have ever had regarding a man and sleep," she sounded bewildered. Alistair giggled. "Well, If I withdrawal hard enough, I will be up all night."

"I _have lyrium_ ," Morrigan offered.

Tess literally froze in her tracks. Morrigan nearly walked into her.

"Morrigan, that's not helping at the moment," Alistair said.

"I brought it for her, mostly. We will need her at her most alert."

"Well, she's not very alert now, is she? She was talking about weaning, earlier. That might be a good thing, considering what the mere mention of it does to her," he tried to defend Tesslyn's decision.

"And when she screams in torment because withdrawals are torturing her from the inside?" Morrigan challenged. Both of them resumed walking when Tess did. "You care for her. I'm positive you'll come running to stop her pain once you see how bad it truly gets. 'Tis half the reason we kept you from her. Mother could not heal her with the lyrium so thick in her veins. We had to silence her with a spell and let her body pass it on its own. Mother had to keep her hands bound, for she kept trying to dig it out of her insides herself."

"I thought you said she was unconscious the whole time?" he asked.

"She was. But the body still breathes, blood still flows when one sleeps, yes?"

"Will you two please stop talking about this? It's doing nothing for my nerves!" Tess said.

"Sorry!" Alistair rushed.

The rest of the day was relatively quiet. Tess started ticking and twitching before sunset ever fell upon them. She didn't say anything, so Alistair figured she was trying to make it seem like it really wasn't bothering her. When the sun did start to set and they decided on a clear enough place in the woods to make camp, Tess insisted on going alone to find firewood alone. Alistair was reluctant, for her jaw was clenching and her words were starting to trip over each other. But he made her promise to stay close. He set up their bedmats; Morrigan opted to use the thick fur rug as her bed. He told Po to see if he could find something for supper, expecting rabbits or another fox. When Tess didn't return with another few drops of the sun, he gathered stones to set at the base for the fire.

The sun had nearly disappeared behind the mountains and trees. Tess still wasn't back, nor was her dog. He set out the direction she had left in. He groaned as branches slapped his face. Being so tall in the woods at night when he could barely see was nearly undoing him.

He nearly tripped over her. She was squatting with her head down between her knees. The only reason he even knew it was here in such low light was the rocking back and forth. Her hands were tangled in her hair, clenching to a pulse. "Maker, Tess!" Even her toes rocked, even her ankles spasmed. He carefully unhooked her fingers from her hair, and instantly her head started twitching. "Oh, Tess." She was in bad shape. He crouched and braced her tight in his arms, and stood as carefully as he could. "You need to yell for me when this happens," he told her gently. He tipped her as he readjusted one arm under her legs. Her head jerked at the crook of his neck and her fingers tightened around a fistful of shirt at his collar, nearly in unison with her head. He hurried back to camp, and it dawned on him that he was once again saving this damsel in distress.

"Morrigan! I need a potion!" he demanded in a bossy tone.

"I told you," Morrigan said smugly as he stepped around the bedmats and brought Tess to her.

"Just make the potion."

"And you have been dying all day to carry her," the witch continued mockingly.

"Yes! I've been waiting _all_ day for her to curl up in pain, unable to move and unable to call for help!" he snapped. "How are you so insensitive? If I hadn't gone to find her, she would still be stuck out there!" He rested his left leg on a tree stump and set her weight on him so he could attend to her face. No bleeding, but she wasn't focusing at all and her pupils were very small for such low light.

"I had no reason to suspect anything was wrong. She is a capable woman." Morrigan poured a small handful of lyrium into a fat vial.

"Right, except it doesn't take anyone that long to gather firewood in a forest and we both know she has a severe lyrium addiction that completely incapacitates her!" He really couldn't stand this mage. He certainly didn't trust her. Tess' eyes tried hard to stay on him, and her lips kept opening. "It's almost over," he assured her. He brushed her blonde locks off of her face and neck. "I promise."

"'Tis finished." Morrigan turned around and held out a small bottle of blue liquid.

Alistair quickly snatched the vial. With the arms supporting the back of Tesslyn's head, he reached around to open her mouth. He poured just a trickle of the potion on to her tongue. Almost instantly, her body started relaxing. Hands still trembling, she found his wrist and tipped until the vial emptied past her lips. She took a deep, shaky breath and let her head hang back. She stammered out _more_. "Another, Morrigan!" Alistair ordered. The witch looked at Tess in such a way that said she hadn't believe Tess' addiction was really so bad. She took the empty vial and proceeded to make another batch.

Tess, with her face still titled toward the nearly blackened sky, climbed her fingers up Alistair's wrist and clasped his hand firmly. Her chest rose too evenly, like she was trying to force her breath to normality. He understood she was grateful, but this was just one more sign that he was supposed to take care of her.

She practically inhaled the second dose. Her chest heaved drastically, finally able to fill with air. However she was still disoriented, or weak. When she tried to stand, her knees gave out. She clutched him around the shoulders, and he caught her before she slipped from his arms.

"I've got you," he assured her. She buried his face in his shoulder and clung to him like she didn't trust herself to let go.

"Let's get you set," he said. "I'll start the fire, and go find Po."

"Where's Po?" she was muffled against him.

"He went to go find dinner."

"What?" she raised her head and looked quizzed.

"I told him to go find dinner, and he left. Don't worry, he hasn't been gone long, I promise." He braced her waist. "Do you want to try to walk, or should I carry you?"

"I need to move," she said. He held her with only one arm and guided her to where he had set up their bed mats, letting her set the pace. As soon as he had her securely sitting, Po came trotting back with a proud grin and what looked like a bloody snout.

"See? He's fine." Alistair knelt in front of Tess and studied her eyes for a moment. Even though Morrigan's campfire was a bit far and so the giving light poor, Tess' pupils were dilating now.

"I guess we all can't be fidgety lyrium addicts in the woods," she joked softly.

"I would hate to see your dog on lyrium. Our luck, it would make him fly or something."

She gave an exhausted smile, and he gently pressed his fingers to her head when he brought his lips in above her eyes."Will you be all right if I go get firewood and see what Po caught?" he asked. When she nodded, he told her not to move and promised he'd be right back. He told Po to go guard his kill, and the dog happily obliged. Alistair gathered two armful of fallen branches close to their campsite, and one armful of kindling. He borrowed some fire from the witch, and as he made sure the rest of the wood took to the flame, he noticed the solemn glow upon Tesslyn's face. He stoked the fire until it roared, and then he sat next to her on the bedmat.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked.

"Yes." She stared at the fire as if in a trance. "No."

"Yes _and_ no," he echoed. "So, what _isn't_ all right?"

"Me."

"That's hardly accurate, Tess," he insisted. He didn't like hearing her talk like this.

"No, I'm just…thinking about what you said earlier. It's something we _need_. I'm…I guess I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that…I may not be able to live without you. Which the stupidest thing I have ever told a man, but…" she shook her head. "Whether from myself or my addiction or ogres, I _do_ …need you. I can't live on my own anymore. I don't ever remember having so many problems. I've traveled all over Thedas by myself, half of the time without Po. But I doubt I'll live to thirty without you, at this rate. I can't help myself anymore. You've had to do it all for me."

"You have been through so much, Tess, excluding Ostagar. You have to give yourself a break sometime."

"The thought alone scares me terribly. Thirty may not be possible if I don't stay with you. _Twenty-four_ may not be possible without you." That was just her next birthday. "I've never been scared of anything before."

"Are you looking for an answer _why?_ " he asked. " _Why_ do I help you?"

"No. I'm just…" she sighed heavily, then scoffed. "Climbing up the front of a toothy ogre doesn't scare me, but possibly dying at any given moment does."

"I guess I'll just have to stick to your side, then."

She was quiet for a moment. "Okay, _why_?" she said with a sigh. "Why would you do that? Why would you do anything you've done for me?" She looked at him.

"To be honest, I don't really know why I started. Maybe…I don't know. I could see you were having a hard time, before your Joining. I could see _pain_ in your eyes. That made me overlook your moodiness."

She groaned. "I'm _sorry_ about that!" she winced.

"Don't be. I understand," he assured her. "As far as why I keep helping…" he shrugged. "Isn't that what you _do_ for a friend? I consider you my friend. A good one. The best one I've ever had, truthfully. You've caused me some very manly giggles."

She ducked her head in a sheepish laugh, and he smiled for her. He pressed his mouth to her bare shoulder, and she withdrew quiet breath, the same shoulder lifting as her head turned toward him with closed eyes.

" _What_ was _that?"_ he asked, suddenly distracted and very interested.

"Nothing," she said quickly, blinking a few times, turning back how she'd been before he'd kissed her.

"Uh-huh…" he watched her face closely and put his lips to her shoulder again. She gave the exact same reaction, but added an eye roll this time. He grinned, admittedly arrogant right now. " _You like_ that." he concluded softly.

She sighed with her eyes closed. "You're changing the subject. I thought we were talking about your man-giggles?"

He sat back, still grinning like a smug fool. "All right, all right. Let's see…where was I? Oh, yes. And you've shown me that there's more to life than the hardships of living in the Chantry when I don't want to. Plus, I don't like to lead, so if I take care of you, then _you_ can be responsible for everyone in this army we're supposed to gather," he teased.

"Oh. Funny." Her eyes narrowed, though her lips stretched. He laughed.

"Funny and true. I am not completely selfless," he joked. "And as an added bonus, I get to hold a beautiful woman every time you fall."

"Yes," she said flatly. "Completely selfless."

He laughed again. "First and foremost a man. I'm actually surprised you think otherwise."

" _No,_ " she said even flatter, shaking her head. "A normal man would have take advantage of me being naked or incapacitated. I rather prefer the Chantry boy. It's…new and refreshing, and …very much beyond my experience."

"You don't exactly make it easy to keep my morals, you know. Dropping your clothes in front of me? And…that dress-thing you made with Morrigan's sheet looks nothing short of wonderful. You have _amazing_ _legs_ , by the way, amongst…other things."

She let out a wide, shy grin and a little laugh to match. "Thank you and I'm sorry. I had to improvise."

"Oh, I'm not complaining," he said quickly, and she giggled harder. "They just don't teach us to deal with this sort of thing in the Chantry."

Po came trotting back shortly, and Alistair realized he'd forgotten to go retrieve dinner. He left Tess to follow Po, and he came back to camp with a fox an a quail and a nest full of eggs. It looked liked Po had killed the fox, but the fox had killed the quail. He praised the proud dog and took the cache back to camp to clean in the fire light. He let Tess pick what she wanted to eat, but still fed her bits from the fox.

"The witch is watching us," he said, lying on his side, propped up on his elbow next to her.

"Maybe she, too, likes the view of your backside," Tess joked.

Alistair craned his neck back to stare up at her, and she giggled so hard even her knees shook. He didn't like the idea of the witch growing fond of him, but Tess was a much different story. "Okay, I may have lied a little bit, earlier today." He put piece of shoulder meat in his mouth. "When I said I was perfectly content just being your friend. The…truth is I sort of feel like I've known you for a long time, and I really enjoy being near you, and I like touching you." He paused and waited for a response. He sighed when she didn't say anything. "Did that sound creepy? It did. I'm sorry. You can forget I said anything." He sat up.

"I'm – _please_ never mistake my silence for disapproval, Alistair," she said quietly. He looked at her. "I just don't want effort to be wasted on either of us when you may easily despise me soon."

"Why does no one think I'm capable of making good decisions for myself?" he wondered, not specific to her.

"That's not what I meant." She looked over at the sliver of the moons. "How late do you suppose it is?"

"Maybe just shy of midnight or so," he guessed. "The moons aren't terribly high yet." He paused, assuming the conversation of his feelings toward her was over. "You must exhausted. You've had a hard day."

"Don't sound so excited, Alistair. You'll scare the witch."

"Despite all the advantages I see to that, I can't help it. This gorgeous assassin I met the other day slowly keeps crushing her hand around my heart," he joked aggressively.

"Oh, ouch!" she laughed heartily. He smirked and leaned back, and planted a quick kiss on her cheek before he stood.

"I really am glad you're awake and alive and well, considering." He tossed his scraps to the mabari and rinsed his hands from a skin of drinking water. He took a drink, and then brought the skin to her. She thanked him, and tossed the pheasant bones to Po so she could free her hands. Alistair sat on his bedmat and untied the laces on his boots. "They didn't have any womens clothes inside?" he asked.

"Inside where? At Morrigan's?" she looked at him. "No. Not that I saw. Why?"

"Flemeth gave me these to wear. They've have men over before, ones with my build, it seems. She gave me a couple pairs of boots and pants to try. I think that's a bit creepy."

Tess frowned unsurely. "You're saying I should go back? Demand pants?"

He laughed. "No." He pulled his boots off his feet and set them just out of reach from his bedmat. He watched her settle into her bedmat, her feet toward him, pulling a blanket up around her. "Are you going to be warm enough?" he asked her.

"Oh, yes. I have my pup." She snuggled right up to her dog.

"You know, he slept with me while you were…whatever Morrigan says you were doing. When you were unconscious."

"He is a good friend," she said.

"I agree. He reminds me a bit of you, actually."

"Ridiculously adorable, floppy tongue, cute tail?" she guessed.

He laughed softly. "That's exactly it." She buried her face in her dog's coat and stretched her feet out. Her feet poked out of the blanket.

Suddenly he felt very razzed and plucky. He looked at her face. She wasn't looking at all. He fought a smirk as he reached over. She was going to smite him for sure. "Are your feet ticklish? Mine are." Before she could react, he tickled his fingers just under her toes. Her legs shot up faster than he had ever seen anything move, and he laughed so hard he fell onto his back.

"Maker have mercy on you!" she yelped. Alistair buried his laughter in his headrest, watching her relocate her own headrest to where her feet had just been. She failed to fight a smile as she looked at him.

"I couldn't help it!" he tried to breathe through his laugh.

"Did that quite answer your question?"

"Best answer ever!" he giggled. "If this is hereby the end of our friendship, I can safely say it was completely worthwhile."

She laughed silently. "Oh, Holy Maker, what were you thinking? Sending me someone with such a long reach."

He grinned deeper. "Hm," he sighed. "Definitely worth it."

"Do I have to worry about anything else during the night?"

"No." He just smiled at her, watching her settle in again, her head within reach this time. "You know, Lothering has a river."

"It does have a river," she agreed, pulling the blanket up around herself and her dog.

"Do you think it will be cold?" he asked.

"It's still early in the season. Hard to say, though. Lothering's usually warmer than the rest of Fereldan. It won't be a comfy bath tub, but I'm pretty sure you'll come out with both jewels."

He giggled even more. "You're right. The throne would _explode_ with you on it." She returned the smile, lying upon her headrest with her face toward him.

She was a lovely sight indeed. She glistened almost gold in the light from the fire. He could still see the pink of her cheeks and lips. She was the reflection of the rising sun upon a waking rose, and her hair shone like the summer heat itself. Watching her was like listening to the romantic tales of Andraste. He wasn't sure he deserved to be in her presence.

"Still think I look nothing like my brother?" she asked, gazing gently with a matching smile.

He grinned. " _How_ did you _know_ I was thinking about your _brother_?" he played along.

She shrugged with a sly, cute smirk. "Oh, you just have that look on your face that says ' _those sparkling emeralds are_ nothing _to Fergus' boring blues And his lips are_ definitely _not plump and kissable. Maker be praised! She's got cute little dimples when she smiles.'"_

He couldn't help but adore her. He leaned his head propped up on his left hand, never taking his eyes off her. He couldn't stop smiling to save his life. "My face says all that, huh?"

"It does." She smiled a new smile for him. It stretched to the left more than the right, crooked and wide, showing off her dimples. Maker, she was smiling like that on purpose. She was flirting with him.

"Those are cute dimples," he flirted right back. He let out a breathy laugh. "Maker's breath! Am I really that obvious?" He was a little embarrassed, but he liked it. He liked how she could make him shy just with a simple flirt, a simple tease.

"It's precious," she flirted. No, not flirting. Adoring, at least for the moment.

"Precious like a baby?" he asked.

"Your innocence is precious." She paused. "If I ever have any advice for you, it would be _don't lose that._ " They stared at each other still. Here eyes studied his whole face. She even reached over and tried to fix a cowlick he could never get to cooperate. "Your innocence has made you a wonderful man. You have such a big heart, Alistair. Most of us lose our innocence early, those who don't grow up in the Chantry. Even many who _do_ grow up in it." She tucked his hair behind his ear. "Even us _pompous nobles._ Outside of the Chantry, as soon as girls get their first blood, we're… _supposed_ to be married off. Boys are expected to work the fields or learn a trade, like smithing, or hunting. Some girls even prefer to learn trades. It's in the learning of these trades that lusts forms, they draw in the need to relieve tension. But it doesn't stop at sex. It transforms us into creatures of greed and we are never satisfied." Her fingers trailed down his face. He turned into her caress. She made his whole head tingle. "Your innocence makes you so beautiful. I feel very humbled to know you."

He caught her fingers in his hand when they fell past his chin. He looked at their hands as he laced his fingers with hers. He met her gaze again. "Would it be wrong of me to ask for a kiss so soon?"

Her brows furrowed a bit. "I will break your heart, Alistair."

"You already did that, actually," he told her. "When you said your goodbye before Duncan gave us our orders. I think we both thought you were sending me off to die. And then that _sigh_ you let out when he said we weren't parting." He paused to try to word things decently before speaking. "When you hugged me, it was like my life flashed before my eyes. It made me aware that I didn't have what you were giving me, I didn't have a woman like you waiting for me to return, I didn't have a woman bursting with joy at my return. I honestly thought I was going to die, and all I'd given you was that lousy kiss on your hand."

"It wasn't lousy to me," she said.

"And then there's _that._ " He briefly pointed with a finger attached to her hand. "All those little things you say to me. You're the only one who remembers what I say. You tell me _thank you_ and _thank you for being my friend._ Telling me that how I just am makes me beautiful. I was never here because I have to be, Tess. I'm here because I want to be."

"You are not supposed to be so wonderful," she said, almost a little sadly.

"I couldn't ask for a better woman," he let her know. "The Maker delivered the perfect woman right to me."

She winced. "Please stop. I have something to tell you when we find Teagan, and the man you are _right now_ will not thank me for it. You may even hate me. On top of that, I have a debilitating addiction that I can't overcome, I'm _not_ pure, and I could never give you children. And – _and_ I kill people. I enjoy it. I am certainly not perfect, Alistair."

"I think you may be perfect for _me_ ," he said.

" _Nobody_ wants the kind of person I am."

"Can _I_ be the judge of who I want?" He refused to release her hand when she pulled it back. "It's not like I can help how you make me feel. And don't even try to tell me I don't know what I'm talking about just because I'm…inexperienced. I know for a fact that most people don't become instant best friends."

"How are you so sure of me?"

"I might ask you the same thing. You follow me around just as much as I follow you."

She sighed. "Alistair. I don't carry you to safety. I don't whisper gentle comfort to you -"

"But you _could,"_ he cut her off with a smirk. She opened her mouth, and then shut it in attempt to hide a smile. He laughed a little. "I have a pretty long lost why I like you."

"Already? You've only known me for three conscious days."

"When you say it like _that_ , _yes_ , I do sound a bit creepy and possessive," he joked. "But I think my reasons are fair enough."

"Like… _she's taught me I need to stay away from manically depressed pirates_?" she guessed.

"Very, very close," he teased. "The first one is actually _she greatly appreciates it when I give her weapons."_

She giggled. "A fine reason, if I ever heard one."

"And… _she's given me one thing to live for and a hundred_ _ways_ _to be happy with nothing else but her company._ I can only assume that if we survive this Blight, you'll keep surprising me for the rest of my life. Speaking of surprises!" he suddenly remembered. "What was that look you gave me when I smashed in that genlock's head with my shield?" he teased. She instantly frowned in accusation, and he laughed. "You sort of called yourself out with this one!" He grinned.

"It was impressive, that's all."

"Uh-huh. It reminds me of your reaction when I kissed your shoulder a bit ago."

She frowned again. He felt smug all over again.

"And it also reminded me of how _I_ feel when you suddenly take off your clothes." He searched her eyes. "So, the _king_ thing…"

"Oh, dear…"

" _Oh dear_ is right," he joked. "You talked to Flemeth about it. At first I thought you were talking about Cailan, but then you slipped up at Morrigan's house. You said your lyrium problem _nearly_ cost you the life of the king. But Cailan had already died." He paused, waiting for her to chime in. "That's what you need to speak to me about, isn't it? To Teagan about. You meant _me. I_ can put two and two together."

"And what _does_ two and two make?" she evaded the question.

"Twenty-two, obviously," he joked. She smiled a little. "You know, don't you? About me? About who my father is?"

She didn't speak for awhile, only searched his eyes. After a very long moment, she said, "Yes. I've known since I was eleven. No one had to tell me. I figured it out all on my own. My family stayed with Eamon on a trip home from Denerim. I knew nearly the moment I saw you. You _look_ like him, like Cailan."

"No, I don't. Do I? I'm cuter though, right?"

She smiled crookedly again. " _I_ think so. I happen to have a thing for red hair and freckles."

"Ooh. That thoroughly explains your obsession with both of those on me."

"Hm," she mused with a dreamy smile. "You have no idea."

He laughed softly. "Then for once, I am glad that I have them."

"Otherwise, you look like him."

"I don't remember you," he said.

"We didn't officially meet. I sort of spied on you. I thought you were Cailan at first. I told you he pestered me?"

He nodded. "Dolls in the lake, books in fire. Abominable things."

"I thought you might be him. I _honestly_ thought he'd followed me from Denerim and colored his hair _just_ to _pester_ me again."

He laughed. "How old was he then? You were eleven? So, he was thirteen." He giggled harder. "What I wouldn't have given to see that look on your face."

"Yes, all very funny, laugh it up." She smirked. "But I followed you, and…I figured it out. I knew enough of court life to know I had to keep you a secret. I am _still_ very irked by Isolde, by the way. And not just for the way she talks." She gave a shudder, and he smiled.

"And your business in Orlais that Teagan is part of…?" he prompted.

"I will not end this night with that story. I'm honestly terrified of your reaction."

"It can't be that bad."

"It may be."

"All right." A thought struck him. "Did you know my mother?"

"If I did, I don't remember her. I'm sorry. I know that's not the answer you wanted," she apologized. "She must have been beautiful, though."

"How do you suppose that?"

"She had _you_ , didn't she?"

"And you wonder why I feel all mushy around you," he teased.

"I mean it."

"And I appreciate it. I do. No one has a painting, even." He hesitated. "Apparently I've got a sister in Denerim. Word is she has five kids."

"That's very brave. I've _heard_ women go through childbirth. It sounds like a nightmare. I honestly think I'd rather take on a dragon."

He laughed. Still holding he hand, he extended his fingers to touch her chin. He couldn't get over that lopsided smile of hers. He wanted to kiss her. "What's it like?" he asked softly.

"Twenty-two?" she guessed.

"No," he laughed again. "No. Erm, being…intimate with someone you love. Everyone I know who uses the brothel always calls it _fun_ or _a good time._ Is it…just…physical, then?"

"I _cannot_ believe I'm hearing this from a _Chantry boy._ "

He giggled. "Believe me, I don't ask anyone about this stuff!"

She smiled that crooked smile again. "I've heard it's better if you love the person."

"You've never loved anyone? I can't imagine men not falling over themselves for you."

"Those are two very different things. People _have_ fallen and fought over me, but the closest _I've_ come to love is my childhood fantasy of wearing a crown _next to_ Teagan."

" _Next_ to him," he mused.

"I've been in too many places and never stayed long enough." Her eyes wandered. "I've _seen_ love, though. My parents loved each other, and my brother and his wife loved each other." She met his eyes again. "Father made Duncan promise to get mother and me to safety, but mother refused to leave. She told him she would kill everyone who came through the door…she refused to let him die alone."

"I know that feeling. I recently experienced it, in fact. Something about an ogre in a tower," he said. "Actually, I think we both did a little of that, then."

"I do _not_ recommend climbing an ogre," she advised flatly, and he grinned.

"Where was the painter when we needed a portrait, eh?" he joked.

"Tell me about it!" she agreed. She looked down at their hands, comparing her fingers to his. "I wasn't about to let it kill you."

"You were suffering terribly," he recalled.

"That's no excuse. You deserve a better death than something so hideous."

"Right. And I suppose I'm so handsome that only the most beautiful woman should be allowed to kill me?"

She hesitated. "If you weren't complicating this…thing I was doing with your perfect-everything every moment, I would agree. But I am officially terrified of hurting you. Though I know I will. But I'm still scared to do it. I have never had someone like you that I can trust fully, and in return be trusted by fully."

"Can we just agree that we drive each other crazy, then?" he smiled for her.

She stalled again, searching his eyes. "I suppose that would work."

"I've never been in love either. I'm curious to see what you do to me."

"Alistair?" she said. She was looking a little drowsy.

"Yes?" He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to her fingers.

"Did you ever sing in the Chantry?"

He smiled. "Now her hand is raised, A sword to pierce the sun, With iron shield she defends the faithful, Let chaos be undone," he sang in the slow, ominous way the Chantry choir taught him.

"Do you do _everything_ perfectly?" she asked.

He smirked. "I haven't tried everything yet, particularly in the romantic area. _You'll_ have to _tell_ me if I'm always perfect." She raised a singly eyebrow in an expression similar to the one she wore at Ostagar when he bashed that genlock's head in. "Ah-ha, I got you!" he teased.

"Maker, forgive my deliriousness, but I just dreamed a Chantry boy propositioned me."

He laughed. "I – yes, I suppose I did…didn't I?"

"Just when I begin wondering if you were ever really in the Chantry, you start blushing again."

He ducked his head in embarrassment. "I was also a Templar for awhile. Sort of," he said, finding her eyes again.

"And I suppose you sweet-talked all the mages like this, then?"

"Never. None of them caught my eye enough."

"Enough?" she repeated.

"I wasn't around the mages very often. I sat through a Harrowing once, which was horrible. But I spent most of the time with the other recruits studying and practicing."

"So when you say enough, that means you liked _looking_?" she probed him for more.

"You really want to know about other women I've looked at?"

"I'm just curious."

He was hesitant to tell her. "The elves were cute, but I never talked to anyone."

"Elves, eh? But I'm not an elf. So why do you like me? Isn't it the ears and the small stature and the pretty eyes that everyone likes? The legs?"

"Can we not talk about this, please? I feel really disrespectful talking about this with _you_."

Her brows lifted. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry." She gave a slow blink, immediately followed by a yawn, and he smiled.

"You don't have to stay awake for me," he told her.

"I suppose you never get tired, either?" she yawned again, letting her head rest on its side.

"I will always fall asleep after you," he told her.


	7. Part of The Plan

Something pushed against Alistair's face over and over. Something soft, plush. It didn't take him long to figure out someone was kissing him all over, just as he had done to Tess the day before. He couldn't open his eyes because she was kissing him so often so fast. He reached up and blindly found her arm, and her kisses slowed. She carefully planed each kiss. Her lips were so soft, so tender, and she made his face tingle.

"Maker…" he murmured. Surely this was the best way to wake up in the morning.

" _Actually_ , I am _not_ the Maker!" she said optimistically.

He smiled and peeked at her with one eye. Without giving any warning, he grabbed her with both arms and pulled her over his body and next to him, and he held her firmly against him. " _Oh, blast_!" she muttered in defeat. He laughed into her hair. "Don't you _dare_ tell anyone I was ambushed by a _sleeping_ man!"

He giggled and squeezed her tight. "This is _amazing_ , Tess," he told her. "I want to wake up like this every day."

"You want to be smothered with kisses in your sleep every day?"

"Oh, Maker, yes!" he said into her face. Her fingers twitched at his shoulder, and he opened his eyes. "Shall I call for the witch?"

"No need. The _witch_ is here." Morrigan was suddenly there indeed. "'Tis complete." She set a bottle of lyrium potion down dear their heads and walked away. "You are both making me ill!"

Alistair grinned. "Two birds with one stone. I could get to like this."

"Is this always going to happen?" Tess asked.

"As long as you wake me up with a kiss, or forty," he teased, "then I will feel like cuddling." Her fingers clenched again, and he wrapped his hand around hers. She flinched yet again within his hand, and he reached above his head until his fingers found the tiny bottle. He watched her as her mouth closed around the tiny rim. Her throat move as the blue liquid disappeared from the bottle.

He took the opportunity to press his lips to her cheek, lingering as long as she let him. To his surprise, she didn't stop him. She reached around and held the back of his head. "I have never wanted to wake up solely to see someone before," he whispered, brushing his lips against her silky skin. Her face turned in toward him a bit.

"I have never not wanted to leave a man when he fell asleep, before." Her fingers grabbed what they could at the back of his head. "You are ruining me, Alistair. Assassins aren't suppose to be soft."

"Really? You feel awfully soft from here."

"Oh, shove it! This is _your_ sodding doing!" she gently pushed him. He laughed and curled around her, squeezing her again.

"Would you two stop your intimacies so we can move on?" Morrigan yelled over.

Alistair turned his head to yell back: "We're not naked!"

"Is that even permitted? Two Grey Wardens…"Morrigan trailed off.

Alistair grinned. "What? _Caboodling_?"

"Oh, Maker!" Tess muttered.

"Fraternizing," Morrigan said flatly.

"That's it! I want out!" Tess quickly got to her feet. "The Archdemon can kill himself!"

"What?" Alistair laughed. "And Morrigan, _no_. There's nothing wrong with fraternizing." He sat up. "Tess. Where are you going?"

"To find water while you two verbally maim my vicious reputation." She looked back with a smile.

"No! Not without me."

"I just had lyrium. Finish your quarrel!" she called as she walked away.

"No, no, no! You're not really going to leave me here with _her_ , are you?" he whined.

She looked back again. "I am."

"You upset her," Morrigan smirked.

"Oh, shut up!" Alistair snapped. He got to his feet and looked around. The sun was still a bit orange; it wasn't very late in the day yet. He walked the opposite direction Tess had gone to relieve himself, then he wandered, not wanting to return to camp when it was only the apostate waiting there.

He also felt a little naked without his sword or shield. He found a broken branch about the length of his sword and carelessly hit trees and tall weeds as he walked. And he thought of Tesslyn.

Was he pushing his luck with her? Recalling their talk last night, and how he'd wrapped her up and just held her when she woke him up? How serious was she about not wanting him to love her more than just a friend?

"So, tell me if you've heard this one," her voice rang out. He turned, already wearing a smile. "This girlish pirate assassin gets recruited by a bunch of men in dresses -"

He grinned. Her stories so far all turned out good.

"- and then she accidentally runs into the very same Prince she's been working so hard for five years to…elevate."

He lost his smile. "I do _not_ want the throne, Tess."

She held up a finger as she walked nearer. "But he is not what the assassin plans for. He turns her insides to jelly, which now puts her at an impasse on her mission." She paused. "I told you I was trained by an Antivan Crow, yes?"

"Yes, you did," he recalled.

"He told me, the First Rule of being an assassin is never get involved. Don't make friends and don't fall in love. Morrigan has a point, emotions complicate things." She looked out at the forest. "I _do_ plan to put you on the throne. But at this rate…what happens to _me_ then? Assassins aren't good leaders. I suppose I could…just go back to the way I was."

"And what if _I_ want to remain a Grey Warden?" he asked.

"That would make things easier on me. I would still be _alive_ in ten years," she said lightly.

He frowned, apprehensive. "Have you been _watching_ me for five years?"

"Longer, when I've been in the country. Before I was fourteen, I was simply curious to see what you'd do with your birthright. But after the mess with Loghain riddled me, I knew he would only stop if someone who didn't idolize him like a lost puppy was king. Seeing you at the Chantry and at Redcliffe, I knew it was you. It has to be. You're the only person who defies having others restrict his freedom to choose so _empathetically_."

" _Please_ tell me this isn't what you're really doing!" he groaned.

She frowned, clearly conflicted. "I really wanted to wait as long as possible to tell you. But it's better you know now, than…" her eyes trailed away. "Than later. Than having things continue how we've been acting, and having you feel betrayed."

"Wait. Before you say anything else, you were trying to kill yourself when we met! How can this be a real plan?" he asked.

"It _was_ a plan. I did _not_ expect Howe to massacre my family, though. That alone was enough to make me want to throw the whole plan out. Duncan was _able_ to conscript me because I was too upset to fight him. Can you try imagining _my_ side for a moment? _I'm_ ready to give it all up, and the Maker suddenly delivers me right to you. As soon as we reached Ostagar, Duncan's first order was _Find Alistair._ And then _you_ talked me off a ledge. _You_." She met his eyes. "You will likely have no choice, Alistair. I can't let you deny your position when _you_ could put a stop to the rest of the Loghains in Fereldan. In the past five years, I've been home twice – no, I've been in Fereldan twice, for a month each. I have played lovers, bards, Chanters, I've broken into houses to seduce people in various ways to get knowledge and approval and support-"

"Tess, I do not want the throne," he insisted. "It's always been made clear to me that it was never in my future. I'm _content_ not being king. I hate leading. I hate being responsible for people."

"You do fine with _me_ ," she tried to point out.

He sighed. "It's different with you. I _like_ you. When you woke me up like that…I can still feel it, my skin still tingles. You're an exception _because_ I like you. And you're one person, you are not an entire nation full of…starving people, and quarrels over titles, and petitions and refugees and…keeping the peace. I'm not good at leading."

"You led Jory and Daveth well," she commended. "And you are _my_ inspiration for continuing. I'm _not_ talking about finding the king, I'm talking about your friendship. The _kind_ of friend you are."

"And helping a pretty girl because I like her shape and how she giggles qualifies me to be a good king _how_?" he asked.

She raised one brow slightly higher. "You can't pull that over me, Alistair. It's not just physical, you know that. You _carried_ an _assassin_ to _help_ her."

"That still doesn't make me a king."

"No, your _father_ made you a king. Future king. Maric knew where babies come from, believe me. Otherwise, _Cailan_ must have seemed like pure magic." She looked away for a second. "Cailan knew. He knew I was in Orlais to try to convince Celene to support Fereldan under your rule. That whole marriage blessing he gave us was for when you take the crown. He stubbornly made me promise to take care of you. To marry you and take care of you and make sure something like Loghain never happens again to the king." She grimaced. "Sodding bastard was thousand times more clever than I ever gave him credit for." She met his eyes. "He fought with Duncan because he wanted to die fighting beside someone he trusted. He willingly went to his death for you…for us." She let out a deep, disappointed sigh. "The tower was supposed to be safe. _Blast_ him! _He_ bloody sent us there. He was trying to make sure we survived." She sighed again. "Long live the King."

" _You had better be ready, boy,"_ Alistair recited her words at the end of the bridge. "You were talking about this, about making me king. _Dammit_ , Tess." He didn't like this one bit.

"I told you, you wouldn't like it. You may even hate me for it."

"I still like _you_ , but I _hate_ your idea." He growled and whacked a tree sharply, breaking the stick. "Great. Just… _fantastic._ Can we stop talking about this? Please?"

"As you wish…my Prince."

His eyes flew to her. She wore a sweet, alluring, come-hither look on her face. He knew it was a play, too. He tried not to smile. He still didn't like the idea of being king, but dammit if she wasn't trying to sweeten him up so he'd reconsider. "Have you been _saving_ that?"

" _Yes!"_ she exclaimed excitedly, her eyes large. "It's been driving me _mad!_ You have _no_ idea!" She seemed genuinely happy. Carefree, no forced smile. He hadn't seen her so loose before.

He couldn't hold his smile in any longer. "That is not funny," he said with a goofy grin.

"But it _is!"_ She was so excited she could barely contain herself. "It feels _so_ good that you know that I know!" she gushed. "I am _never_ letting you live this down! Especially all that manly giggling at Ostagar!" every word was rushed with glee. She leaped away with her arms out. " _Eyyy oooh ba ya da_ _bum_ ," she belted out, dancing away from him. Her mabari romped over to jump around her, just as excited.

"Is that your victory dance?" Alistair mused. As much as he didn't want _this_ woman in particular trying to make him king, he absolutely adored seeing her like this. She was silly and fun, and her voice was just as lovely as she was.

"You think I should _do_ this after _I_ slay the Archdemon?" She glanced back at him.

He laughed a little. "I'd pay to see that."

She was grinning like it was stuck to her face. "It's part of an Orleasian nursery rhyme. _I am a little wyvern and I'm still kind of young, mama says I'm clumsy but I think it's all fun, I like to hide in bushes and chase the butterflies, and sometimes I trip over but I don't really mind, Eyyy oooh ba ya da bum, Eyyy oooh ba ya da bum!"_ she belted, shaking her hips and dancing in circles with her dog.

" _Chase butterflies?"_ he echoed, unable to wipe the smile off his own face. "And you're singing this about me?"

She looked at him as she danced away to this music in her head. "Eyyy oooh -"

"Yes, _eyyy oooh,"_ he chimed in, following her.

"Nicely done, Your Majesty." She incorporated a deep bow into her dance.

"Even better!" he joked sarcastically. "Do you know any _other_ Orleasian nursery rhymes that remind you of me?"

"No. Well, yes! Sort of! But it has flowers in it. _Throw my petals to the King, My flowers lie before…_ " she froze. "Er, well, that actually rather sounds like a consort's song, or something. Not a child's farewell."

He laughed. "That explains a lot about Orlais, actually."

"A little _too_ much," she said with wide eyes.

"Weren't you looking for water?" he teased.

"Hm?" She turned in such innocent query that told him she had completely forgotten. "Oh! Yes! But then I started looking for wood to make a new bow, and _then_ I saw _you._ "

"I've never seen you this happy," he marveled.

She paused. "I think I used to be…before everything."

"So…what's new?" he asked.

"I…you know that I know that you're a prince?" she guessed with a shrug.

"Likely," he said dully. "Is it really that exciting to you? Honestly?"

"It's not the fact that you _are_ a prince, it's that I don't have to pretend like I don't know anymore. It's a hard secret to keep, you know. And I _wasn't_ so sure that _you_ even knew."

"Am I more attractive as a prince?"

"You're forgetting, you've _always_ been a prince to me. This is not new information for _me_. The only _new_ thing is that now you know that I've always known."

"You're avoiding the question, Tess," he joked seriously.

She laughed. "Oh…" she sighed. "I am _still_ attracted to you. Your brother didn't have half of your body. I'd much rather have _you_ with me."

"And…what part of my body is attractive to you?" he asked slyly.

Her eyes narrowed. "I see what you're doing here."

He grinned. "Stop deflecting. It's just us, anyway."

She stared at him, eyes first, then her gaze traveled down his body. "Your buttocks."

He even blushed a little. "That explains what you did in the compound."

She smiled shyly. "I do like your bottom a lot. And the bulge of your groin. I also happen to be attracted to large shoulders, and you have them." She paused, looking distracted. "And your arms. And your thighs…and calves… _Oh Maker! I need to find some water!_ " She immediately turned and walked briskly.

Alistair couldn't stop smiling. "Wait! Hey! Tess!" He went after her, but she didn't slow or stop. He picked up his pace. " _Tesslyn_. Wait." He stopped her in her tracks by enveloping her in his arms from behind. "I'm sorry," he told her, doing nothing except hug her.

"One day, you will know the torture of wanting someone like this. You can only know it by lying with someone." She rested her head back on his shoulder with closed eyes. "It's like a knot." She took his hand and folded into a fist. "It itches from inside." She brought his fist down to rest just above her womanly parts.

He was tempted to touch her, to slip his fingers between the weave of her makeshift dress. He _did_ want to touch the hair at her center, wanted to hold her hips… He flattened his hand against her, and she gave a quiet gasp.

He put his lips to her shoulder and slid his hand up her arm to lock his arms where he had originally hugged her. "Not here. I'm not…not yet. But someday, when we have a moment to breathe and have a bed, and no swooping witches, you can show me how torturous I am to you."

"For the record," she said a little breathlessly, "Cailan could never make me feel this way."

He smiled and pressed his mouth to the side of her head. "Good."

"This severely complicates things, Alistair."

" _Oh._ The _king_ thing."

"You're awfully thrilled about this, Alistair. People will start thinking you _want_ the throne!" she said.

"Cute. What part is complicating?" he asked.

"Fereldan needs you."

"So do you."

"Therein lies the complication."

"If it comes to that – _if_ – you could take it, too."

"Oh, right. You think those glittering pisscoat nobles in the landsmeet would let a murderous pirate wench on the throne? With _this_ mouth? Not a sodding chance! I'd have to smash in all their gleamin' jewels just to show 'em I was serious!"

He giggled. " _I'd_ put you on the throne with that mouth."

"That would go over – wait." She turned her head toward his. "Too? Like, together?"

He smiled at her easy distraction. "Mm-hm. If you're bound and determined to put me on the throne, I am taking you down with me."

"Hey, now, no threats."

He grinned into her shoulder. "You think I _want_ to spend the rest of my days in a silly coat listening to _glittering pisscoat nobles_ over whose side of the land the top of a tree belongs to? No way. If you make me do this, you are utterly suffering with me."

"What a punishment."

"If you want the throne alone, be my guest."

"I mean, what a punishment to be married to such a wonderful man."

"Of course you did," he giggled.

"I _did,"_ she insisted. "No one else has ever done so much for me...Alistair?"

"Tesslyn?"

"There's no water around here, is there?"

He laughed. "No, I don't suppose so. Lothering's river runs east to west."

"Blast! Were you just going to let me wander all giddy and singing and frolicking through the woods like some elf?"

He laughed harder. "I honestly wasn't thinking about water." He closed his eyes. "Can we go back to bed?"

"Lothering is still two days away."

"And we have all day left. Is it too much to ask just to cuddle?"

"Morrigan is still here. She will oppose the idea."

"Do _you_ oppose it?:

"No. I like it when you hold me."

He groaned. "And I'm hungry."

"Me too."

He sighed. "Fine." He planted one last kiss on the crook of her neck before letting her lead him back to camp.


End file.
